


Fuck Fate and Escape

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, M/M, Mary Keay's A+ parenting is referenced, Trauma, referenced self-mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: In which they escape their fates with some difficulty.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 88





	1. Thrill of Arson

**Author's Note:**

> Relistening to tma left me with so much feels I actually finished a longer project for the first time in my life???

"Useless! This is your fault, you understand? You brought this on yourself. I really didn't think you could disappoint me any more, but in the very end you just showed how much of a coward you truly are!"

Michael froze. It was late, long past midnight, and he was alone in the archive. Except there were words coming through the door he was just passing - one of the rooms storing the statements, as far as he could tell. The voice didn’t sound quite right, and Michael wondered for a moment, if he was imagining it. The words weren’t unfamiliar to him, not unusual to hear them from himself. But usually the voice in his brain simply sounded like his own, not like some vaguely distorted, female voice that managed to make him flinch with the edge of anger in her voice. 

Suddenly there was a loud thud, something heavy hitting the wall and falling to the floor in the same room the screaming was coming from. It made Michael snap out of his trance as he jumped at the noise. His hand was opening the door before he really noticed and he had stepped into the room the next moment. When he looked up, he saw the goth that hung around the archives. They had only spoken once or twice, and Michael had no idea what he was doing in the archive in the middle of the night, but that was besides the point.

The man - Gerard Keay, Michael remembered - was leaning against the table in the corner, slumped against it really, head buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched and shaking, breath erratic. Michael had to fight the urge to run up to him and pull him into a hug.

Instead, he said, voice uncertain, "G-Gerard?"

The man flinched, making himself even smaller. "It’s...Gerry.", he pressed out, and his voice sounded so unlike the smooth voice that had introduced himself to Michael, he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t misremembering. It sounded strained and raw, but most of all, weary.

Suddenly, the awkwardness of the situation sunk in and Michael felt very aware of the fact that he walked in on something not meant for his eyes. He felt the panic creep up his throat and turned around on his heel, running out of the room again. He came back minutes later, with the tea he had made for himself and tentatively held the mug out for Gerry. He wasn't sure whether the man could see it through the curtain of his patchy black hair covering his eyes.

Gerry raised his head slightly after a moment. He stared at the tea and Michael glanced his eyes, red-rimmed, eyeliner and mascara smudged. Gerry simply stared, before taking the mug with a slightly shaky hand, wiping at his face with the other. Michael wasn’t sure if there had been any tears, but the skin peaking through the hair still covering most of his face was blotchy red. He watched as Gerry wrapped both hands around it, looking down at it, focussing on the small ripples his shaking hands were making. He tried to breathe, to calm himself, and watched as the ripples grew smaller when he got the shaking under control the best he good.

"Thanks.", he mumbled, not looking up.

Michael sighed in relief, "W-what...who...was that?"

"My mother."

"M...Mary Keay?", Michael asked, confused. As most in the archive, Michael knew about Mary Keay. One of the first things he learned was that she was dead. Gerry simply nodded. He brought the tea to his face, straightening up a little to take a sip.

"C-can I do...anything else? Are you...alright?", Michael asked.

Gerry looked up at him, and he looked so very weary it was painful to look at, "What was your name again?"

"M-Michael. Michael Shelley."

"Right. Thanks for the tea, Michael.", he took a moment to take a long sip. Michael watched his shoulders slowly relax. He waited anxiously for Gerry to continue, to answer his question. "Why are you still here? It's around 1am."

Michael was confused to be fazed with a question utterly unrelated to everything he said, "It’s actually nearly 2.30. I...I was finishing up work and-"

"Your work?"

"W-well, no, my colleague's. He asked me if I could do the filing for him because he didn't get to do it and-", Michael shook his head, blushing lightly at catching himself babbling. He focused back on the topic at hand, "Can I...help?" 

Gerry looked him in the eyes and Michael nearly stepped back at the intensity of his gaze. Distantly, he was impressed the other man managed to look so intimidating in his messed up state. 

"Do you have a couch?", Gerry asked.

Again, Michael’s mind was sent spiralling, trying to figure out how that question had to do with anything. He was answering before really processing the words, "Y-Yes…?"

"Can I sleep there tonight?"

Michael stared at him, confused and desperately trying to make sense of where the conversation was going. Gerry didn’t look like he was in a state to make a joke. But what else could it be?

"I usually sleep here when...she finds me. She never...came here before…", Gerry’s voice was barely a whisper by the end of the sentence and, again, Michael was gripped by the urge to do anything he could to help.

"S-Sure!"

Gerry gave him an odd look, somewhere between surprised and amused. He finished his tea, getting up. He ran his hands through his hair to get it out of his face and Michael was quite transfixed by the motion, the small eyes on his knuckles disappearing in black hair that slid right into place. It looked soft. Gerry was looking at him now, expectantly, and Michael just looked back at him questioningly.

"Are we going, then?", Gerry asked, mouth pulling into a small, amused grin. It didn't quite reach his exhausted eyes but it still made Michael’s face heat up.

"A-ah, o-of course! I just...n-need to get my stuff a-and...I'll be back in a moment!", he stuttered, face burning as he turned around and all but fled Gerry’s gaze.

Gerry followed him because the entrance to the institute was that way, anyways. And maybe because he really didn't want to be left alone in that room. He hated it when she found him again after a while. Hated how the words still cut deep, despite him being haunted by them even when she was gone, when he was asleep, awake, it didn’t matter. Gerry ground his teeth and quickened his steps, eager to catch up with the odd blond that had given him at least some hope of distraction.

Michael nearly ran into him when hurrying out of the room after finishing cleaning up his working space so he could pick up where he left on Monday, “Oh, I’m sorry!”

Gerry shook his head, mumbling ‘It’s fine’, before making his way towards the entrance to the Institute. Michael followed close behind, trying desperately to calm his embarrassment.

  
  


The way home was silent, unnerving Michael even more. He had so many questions he’d wanted to ask the other man, had had some since the first day he had run into him at 4.30 in the morning in the break room, only to be informed that no, Gerry didn’t work at the institute and that they were running out of coffee. He had been too baffled and too shy to ask anything else, then. 

Now, he just had even more questions, and his mind was whirring. It was probably good that he wasn’t opening his mouth to speak. Michael was afraid of the first question making it out of his mouth being something along the lines of ‘Are you aware you missed a rather big spot at the back of your head when dyeing your hair?’. Michael tried not to stare, not to even look at the other man, because that only made him more nervous. The prospect of those intense eyes falling on him again made Michael’s skin tingle and, oh, he really needed to calm down.

By the time they reached his apartment, the cool night air had calmed Michael’s nerves a little. Of course, seeing his building made the whole situation sink in and he started sweating again. It had been ages since he had anyone over and suddenly he was aware that his apartment was probably not even tidy. Had he cleaned up his kitchen last night? Had he even eaten last night?

What pulled him out of his buzzing thoughts was a slight cough from Gerry. Michael snapped out of it, confused for a moment, to then realise they had reached the door already and Gerry was giving him a look that made him wonder how long he’d just been standing there, lost in thoughts. Michael quickly mumbled an apology, unlocking the door. He was proud to see that his hand wasn’t shaking.

“I’m sorry if it’s a little messy, I wasn’t expecting, uh...visitors.”, Michael said as he entered his apartment.

Gerry scoffed, “More like intruders.”. Michael was about to protest, but Gerry quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to judge.”

Michael only nodded, trying to tell himself to calm down. Still, he watched tensely as Gerry walked into his apartment, eyes taking in his surroundings. Michael was looking out for any sign of disapprovement, but Gerry just yawned.

"Do you want to eat something? Drink?", Michael asked, remembering how to be a host again.

Gerry shook his head, "Just want to crash, really.", his eyes found the couch. It looked comfortable and seeing it only made him feel even more tired. 

Michael nodded and disappeared into one of the rooms, coming back moments later with a pillow and a duvet. Gerry had made his way to the couch by then, and accepted them.

"Uh so...if you change your mind about food and drink, feel free to use the kitchen.", Michael said, waving towards the small kitchen, "Bathroom’s at the end of the hall on the left. And should you need anything else my room’s the first door on the right. I don't have much of a heavy sleep so, uhm...I should be easy enough to wake.", he gave a shy smile.

"I'm sure that won’t be necessary, but, hm...thanks. In general, I mean.", Gerry mumbled vaguely gesturing around him, taken aback by Michael’s attentiveness. He wasn't used to be treated so...nicely.

"O-okay then. Uh...goodnight.", Michael said with an awkward smile, nervously running a hand through his hair before turning around and retreating into his bedroom.

Gerry made himself comfortable on the couch after getting out of his coat. The apartment smelled nice, Gerry thought. Something floral. He was asleep before being able to put a finger on it.

  
  
  


Michael hadn't lied about being a light sleeper and the fact that he slept with his door slightly open probably didn't help with him not waking up with the noises coming from the living room. He hadn't been asleep for very long when he heard it. A shifting. Michael sat up in his bed, blinking away sleep, and listening. Maybe it had been in his sleep. Another noise trickled in, something like a whimper. It took him a moment to remember that he had somebody sleeping on the couch. More shifting noises.

Michael debated for a moment whether he should check on him or not, but more noises were coming from the living room and Gerry sounded like he was in pain, and Michael couldn't take it. When he made it to the couch he saw that Gerry was rolled up into a tight ball, face pressed into the pillow, blanket discarded, one hand clutching the pillow with so much force it looked like he had ripped it a bit, the other clutched in his own hair and Michael was afraid he might rip some out if he kept going. He was shaking and, despite the blanket being elsewhere, drenched in sweat. 

"Gerry!", Michael tried, hands hovering over the coiled up man, frantic. He had to wake him. He had to. "Gerry!", he tried louder and his hand finally decided to try and loosen the grip on Gerry’s hair. 

The moment Michael touched Gerry’s hand, barely brushed his skin, Gerry shot up, sending Michael stumbling in surprise. He would have fallen had Gerry not also gripped the wrist of the hand Michael had touched him with. It was a death grip, knuckles white and Michael let out a small noise at the sharp pain. But it didn't matter. Michael could see that Gerry wasn't awake, not really. His body was still tense and shaking, his eyes still foggy, focused on nothing, dream still clinging to them. There were tears on his face, black trails running down his cheek.

"G-Gerry…", Michael tried, gently pulling his arm back.

Gerry’s grip just grew tighter, making Michael gasp. Gerry turned his head around and his eyes fell on Michael, but he wasn't seeing him. Whatever it was he was seeing was making his grip tighten further.

"Gerry! Gerry wake up. It's a dream, Gerry, please...please wake up!", Michael wanted to shake him with his free hand but the prospect of Gerry possibly gripping that one, too, was making him hesitate. 

He watched Gerry’s eyes, desperately searching for some sign that he was snapping out of it, waking up. He was feeling his hand go numb, his fingers struggling to stretch out as he wanted them to. Gerry had to wake up.

"Gerry!", Michael shouted and he cringed at hearing his own voice so loudly.

Gerry flinched and blinked and his eyes were clear again, and Michael was sighing a sigh of relief when Gerry’s eyes fell on the hand he had wrapped around his wrist and he hissed, pulling it away and reconciling from Michael, "Shit, I'm sorry!", he was holding his hands up as if to make it clear he meant no harm, but Michael really didn't care. 

He rubbed his tender wrist and looked at the other man, "Are you...Are you okay?"

"What?", Gerry blinked, confused, "I mean...yes, yes I am I...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here I...", he was scrambling up to leave and Michael was panicking at the sight because he didn't understand what he had done to make him want to leave so desperately.

"W-what? No! G-Gerry, you're still shaking, p-please…", he put his hands on Gerry’s shoulders and gently pushed him back onto the couch, "Please dont...I-I'll make some tea okay? T-to help you calm down."

Gerry was staring at him now, utterly bewildered, but he at least wasn't trying to leave, so Michael quickly scurried over to the kitchen. Gerry followed after a moment and Michael looked back at him, and was about to tell him that he really should just stay put when Gerry interrupted, "Your wrist."

"Its nothing", Michael said because it really wasn't, it was just hurting and pulsing lightly. Probably a future bruise.

Gerry looked like he wanted to debate that but nodded at the mugs instead, "I'll carry them."

"What? You don't need to! Don't bother yourself, I'll be there in a moment and-"

"I'll carry them. Get something to cool your wrist.", and it was clear that he wouldn't hear any more of it.

Michael let him carry the mugs, then, getting an ice pack for himself before following. Gerry had set the mugs on the coffee table and was picking up the blanket from the floor and folding it when Michael came into the living room.

“Ah, don’t worry yourself with that, I’ll clean up later…”

Gerry looked up at him, “Nonsense.”, he hesitated for a moment after putting the blanket back onto the couch, “Uhm...please, take the couch. I can stand."

Michael looked puzzled, "There...there’s plenty of space on the couch."

Gerry scrunched his eyebrows together. It looked cute. "I- okay.", Gerry mumbled, sitting down slowly and eyeing Michael when latter took the space next to him.

They sat in silence for a moment, but Michael just couldn’t take it anymore, “G-Gerry…?”

Gerry looked towards him, waiting.

“How does...is...your mother...haunting you?”

Gerry sighed, and Michael was about to tell him that he didn’t need to answer if he didn’t want to, but Gerry waved it away, “It’s a book. She...bound herself to it. But it didn’t quite work right because I refused to...help.”, his eyes were faraway and empty and Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know exactly what Gerry was seeing in that moment.

“T-That’s what she was talking about?”

Gerry simply nodded, running one hand through his hair.

“Was she...like that...before?”, Michael mumbled.

Gerry looked at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I…”, Michael took his tea, forgetting about his wrist for a moment and hissing, before using his other hand, letting the other rest on his leg, underneath the ice pack. “Sorry…”, he mumbled into his tea, cheeks slightly red. He was clumsy, with words just as much as with everything else.

Gerry’s eyes looked at the wrist, worrying his lip. He took his own mug, “Nothing to apologise for…”, he took a sip, “And yes, she was...more or less.”

They drank in silence for a moment, Michael letting the information sink in. It was one thing to live hearing those things from your own mother, but having her continue doing so in death? Michael was surprised Gerry wasn’t more of a mess.

“Is there no way to make it...stop?”

“If you destroy the book it would, probably. Gertrude said she’d do it, said she’d look into it but....”, Gerry sighed, weary with an edge of frustration.

Michael brought his eyebrows together. Why would Gertrude not do that? Maybe she needed help with it. But she had always been so difficult with asking for help. Why had Gerry gone to her in the first place? Michael guessed she was probably one of the most knowledgeable people when it came to the supernatural, but Gerry didn’t seem to be oblivious either. He even seemed to have an idea for how to make it stop.

Michael looked at him, curious, “Why didn’t...you-”

“I couldn’t. I...just _couldn’t_.”, Gerry buried his head in his hands and he sounded so very broken Michael wanted to kick himself for asking.

“I-I’m sorry! Of...of course…”, his hand was up again, hovering, debating whether he should rest it on Gerry’s shoulder or not. He decided to refrain, resting it on his own knee instead. Of course it was a stupid question. They were still talking about his _mother_. Michael swallowed, “But why is Gertrude not...maybe it’s too much for her?”

Gerry let out a humourless laugh, “Believe me, that woman has little problem with burning things bigger than that book.”

Michael was sceptical about that, but Gerry sounded so sure. Michael was unable to imagine those fragile hands doing any kind of damage, but the tone Gerry had used was so full of certainty, it made him doubt his own idea. Still, that only made the question of the why more pressing.

“Then...then why?”

Gerry shrugged, rubbing his face, “I asked her the same. She said she’s getting to it, just busy.”, voice lower, “I think...maybe she’s keeping her around so she has something that...motivates me to help her.”

Michael frowned. That didn’t sound like the picture he had of Gertrude. At all. 

“Wouldn’t helping you first not make...more sense?”, Michael mumbled.

Gerry shrugged, “Maybe she’s waiting for me to get more desperate. I don’t know. She won’t say.”

They fell silent and Michael found himself trying to adjust his picture of Gertrude to how Gerry spoke of her. It didn't fit. But he had heard Mary Keay. He had seen Gerry’s haunted eyes. They still looked sad and frustrated. This felt more real than his picture of Gertrude right now.

"Where is the book?"

Gerry chuckled, a bit more humour in it than in his previous laugh. But it still sounded dry, "Why? Are you going to burn it for me?"

Michael tried for a mischievous smile, but it reverted back to being sheepish, "I might."

It was a joke, playing along with the amusement in Gerry’s voice. But Michael felt the idea settle, bury into his mind. He knew it would stay there, bother him.

Gerry laughed, actually laughed, short but still enough for Michael to feel like he was floating. He wanted to hear it again.

They sat in silence, drinking their tea. It was Gerry who broke it after a moment, “How...is your wrist?”, he asked, looking at the wrist resting on Michael’s knee, still wrapped in the ice pack.

Michael unwrapped it. The pain had been dulled by the cold. As expected, it was starting to turn into the blueish colour of a bruise, the red from earlier already fading and the swelling basically gone, too. It really wasn’t too bad.

“I’ll just wear long sleeves for a bit. It’s fine.”, he mumbled, carefully moving his wrist and biting his lip to stifle a small gasp. It did still hurt.

Gerry still didn’t like the nonchalance in Michael’s voice, “I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have touched you.”, Michael smiled apologetically.

Gerry scowled. “No, it really wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to wake me up.”, he looked at Michael, “Thank you, by the way.”

“A-Ah, no...no problem. You didn’t...I couldn’t just leave you like that.”, Michael mumbled, still finding it difficult to think straight under Gerry’s intense gaze. Somehow the smudged makeup didn’t make it any easier not to blush.

Gerry chuckled. He always slept like that. He did have to admit tonight had been particularly bad. But that usually came with his mother’s visits. He would never really be rid of her, he was sure.

“Do you...want to try sleeping again?”, Michael asked after a moment, feeling like he might be keeping Gerry away from much needed rest by still being there.

Gerry shook his head, “No…”, he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, sighing.

“I...should I leave you be?”

“No...I mean, if you want to catch some sleep, feel free. But I don’t mind you staying either…”, Gerry answered, giving him a small smile.

Michael returned it, “Ah, once I’m awake I can usually not fall asleep again.”, he leaned back, too, “TV?”

Gerry nodded, “Sure.”

Michael nodded, turning on the TV and just leaving it on whatever channel it was. He really only wanted background noise so it would distract him from how awkward he felt. And Gerry was closing his eyes, so he probably didn’t care either.

  
  


They had been sitting in silence, watching the light coming in through the window, lighting up the living room rather than the TV, when Gerry spoke up, "I'll buy you breakfast."

It took Michael a moment to find his way back to reality from his reverie, but when the words registered he was shocked, "What? That's not necessary! I can...I can make us something here!"

Gerry chuckled, "I wasn't doubting your cooking skills, I just...want to pay you back a little, okay?"

"It's not-"

"I'm not doing this as a necessity, I want to take you out for breakfast.", he paused for a moment, and his voice was a little unsure when he continued, "U-unless you really don't want to…"

Gerry wasn't quite sure when the idea had come to him but the blond was cute and certainly interesting and he did feel like he owed him. Maybe his tired state had helped with him bursting out with the idea like that. He felt his face heat up.

Michael, too, was blushing, and the light freckles on his nose and around stood out a bit more strongly. Gerry wondered when he had even noticed them.

"No! No...I.. I do. T-thank you.", he smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Gerry smiled back, "Okay.”, his smile turned into more of a grin, “You should get changed, then."

Michael looked down at himself, still wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, "Ah...of course.", he mumbled as he scrambled to get up. He looked back at Gerry, "You should...maybe wash your face.", he said tentatively, vaguely gesturing to the eye area in his own face. 

Gerry laughed a little, "Oh yeah I probably look like a mess.", Gerry brought his to his eyes. His fingers came away stained black. “You don’t happen to have some eyeliner, do you…”, he mumbled, more to himself.

“I do, actually. Feel free to use whatever you need.”, Michael said with a smile before disappearing back into his room.

Gerry watched him go, somewhat surprised by the answer. He guessed he hadn’t spend much time looking at the blond before today, but now he did wonder how he’d look with some eyeliner. Gerry got up, then, and made his way to the door Michael had indicated to be the bathroom.

They both looked tired as they left the apartment, but didn’t really care. For Gerry, that was the usual. For Michael, not caring was quite new. It also only worked until they entered the café down the street. He self-consciously brushed some stray strands of hair he hadn’t managed to fit into the hair tie as they sat down. 

  
  


They ordered and then waited in silence for their breakfast to arrive, both tired and in their own thoughts. Gerry was picking at his nails, watching the black nail polish peeling off. Michael found himself rather transfixed by the eyes on his knuckles, shifting with the movements of his hand. He knew there were more on his shoulders and on his ellbows and Michael was also not oblivious to the one on his throat, currently mostly covered by a black choker. 

"What is it?”, Gerry was looking directly at Michael, which made his face heat up before he even realised he had been caught staring.

"A-are there more?", Michael blurted out.

"More?", Gerry raised an eyebrow.

Michael pointed at his fingers, "E-Eyes."

Gerry followed his gaze. "Ah", he said, going back to picking at his nail polish, this time more pointedly, as a grin pulled on his lips, "Maybe you'll find out, one day.", his voice was teasing and he greatly enjoyed watching as the words sank in, Michaels face going from confusion to surprise, face turning a bright red. Gerry really did like those freckles against the blush.

Michael was still searching for an answer, any comeback to that comment when their orders arrived. He quickly hid his face behind his coffee, burning his tongue, but it didn't matter because this was something to do with his hands and preoccupy his mind with. Gerry watched him, amused grin on his lips and laughter in his eyes. It was quite a bit too much on top of the teasing words.

"O-okay…", Michael mumbled into his coffee because it was better than nothing and he took a deep breath as he felt the coffee grounding him a little, calming his whirring thoughts.

Gerry laughed, just like before, and Michael found himself smiling, despite his embarrassment. Gerry smiled back and Michael quite enjoyed seeing the smile on his face. It was actually quite nice, having that smile directed at him. 

Conversation actually flowed quite easily after they both had had a little coffee and some bites of breakfast in them. It turned out that when the topic wasn't ‘the ghost of your mother is haunting you?’ It was easy to hold a conversation with Gerry. Despite his intense, intimidating eyes he was nice and made Michael feel at ease. Michael even got enough confidence together to ask about why Gerry was at the archive if he didn’t work there, a question he'd been wondering about since he first saw him. 

"I guess you could say I'm...an independent researcher. I do kinda work with Gertrude...but not for the Institute. We just happen to deal with the same things. It's more convenient to share intelligence. More efficient."

Michael nodded, feeling the anxiety about possibly stepping out of line with that rather rude question slip off him.

Gerry for his part found Michael to be a surprisingly pleasant conversation partner. There was a normalcy to him that was fun. It wasn’t the kind Gerry encountered every time he had tried to escape, not frustrating ignorance. Michael knew, though probably not as much as Gerry, but enough to not sound like the clueless kind always did. It was nice. They still talked a lot about the Institute, but in a refreshingly mundane way. 

Michael also seemed very interested in everything Gerry said. His face lit up at some of the particularly funny comments, his eyebrows drawing together when Gerry said something more serious. He was just as fun to watch as he was pleasant to listen to, and in conversation he at least did not seem too overwhelmed by Gerry’s gaze. 

Of course, the fact that it was easy to fluster him with the right word or tone was also endearing. The shock and confusion proceeding the blush and shy smile was one of somebody who clearly wasn't used to such attention. Gerry felt an urge to change that.

Gerry brought Michael home, mostly because the bus stop was that direction anyways. Or at least that's what Michael told himself. Gerry was quite amused by the babbling reassurance that it was really not needed, that Michael had imposed on him long enough. He enjoyed it even more to point out that he had kept Michael from sleeping, and that bringing him home was really not an inconvenience. Michael clearly struggled to not still apologise somehow, but had to give up and let Gerry bring him to his door. He was glad for the company, if he was being honest with himself.

They parted ways with promise of a next time and a new contact on their phones. Michael wasn't exactly sure what the ‘next time’ referred to and had half a mind to specify via text that both would be fine with him, Gerry sleeping over or a shared breakfast. That would come of a bit desperate though, wouldn’t it? Instead, Michael buried his face in one of the pillows on his couch to calm his anxious heartbeat. 

  
  


Before any ‘next time’, they saw each other at the Institute on Monday.

"Hi.", Gerry greeted him as he entered the break room, where Michael was staring intently at the kettle. Or maybe he was spacing out.

His head shot up, turning towards the voice and his lips quirked into a sweet smile when he saw Gerry, "Good morning."

Gerry was stunned for a moment, not having expected such a warm greeting. Certainly not before 6am.

"Uh...how was your weekend?", he blurted out, quickly moving to pour himself some coffee to distract himself from that smile. It was too early to look at anyone like that, too early to look like that. Gerry felt strangely warm.

Michael poured the boiled water into his mug, watching it turn dark as it hit the teabag, "It was fine. Nothing special.", except for the part where he kept wondering if Friday and Saturday morning had been a strange dream only to check his phone and find that he, indeed, had apparently acquired Gerry’s number. The pain in his wrist also helped with accepting it must have been real. "What about you?"

"The same, really. Did get some sleep at least?", Gerry gave him a crooked grin and Michael would have liked to frame it. Instead, he hid his wonder behind his mug, tentatively drinking a little. He hissed as he burned his tongue.

Gerry chuckled, "You really have no patience to let your beverages cool, huh.", there was a knowing glint in his eyes and Michael wondered if maybe he could read minds.

"How...is your wrist?", Gerry asked after a moment.

Michael helps up his hand, pulling his sleeve down slightly to reveal the purple band around it. It was already getting lighter, the spot where Gerry's fingers had pressed in starting to turn yellow-ish.

Gerry was worrying his lip again, "I'm so sorry."

Michael pulled his sleeve back down, shaking his head so vigorously some curls came loose from his bun, "it's really not so bad. I just bruise really easily. I've had worse.", he gave Gerry another brilliant smile, but that last line was anything but reassuring. 

There was something in Gerry that really disliked the idea of Michael being hurt. Not like Gerry went around wishing other people were hurt, but usually hearing about past injuries didn't trigger some weird urge to protect from future ones with other people. Maybe Gerry just lacked experience with other people though. Maybe this was a perfectly normal reaction.

"I'll...be getting to work, then.", Michael mumbled, awkward. "If you need help finding something...I know it can be confusing, so...feel free to ask me.", he managed to add, clearly struggling not to stumble over his words.

Gerry grinned, hoping it would lighten the mood a little again, "I might know my way around better than you. So, should you need help…"

Michael looked surprised, whether it was at the idea that Gerry knew his way around the archive quite well or at being offered help back for a change, Gerry couldn't tell.

"Oh...okay. I'll remember it, then.", Michael gave a last smile before leaving to get to his office.

  
  


Gerry seemed to be around the archive a lot more. Or maybe Michael simply noticed him more. He did seem to be in Michael’s vicinity more than before and Michael was, overall, glad for it. It turned out Gerry was very good at finding files around the archive, would sometimes even help Michael with the follow-ups, despite Michael telling him he really shouldn’t, it was Michael’s work, not his. 

Gerry simply returned that that also applied to Michael’s colleagues’ work, looking at Michael, daring him to challenge that. Michael obviously couldn’t, so he gave in and tried to appreciate the help rather than feeling bad about it. Sometimes, it even worked.

Work seemed to pass more quickly on the days Gerry was around to chat to. Michael had never been particularly good at keeping time, but he still felt like it was dark surprisingly quickly in those instances. It did not matter too much. since Michael generally stayed overtime anyways. Sometimes, Gerry stayed late, too. When he did, Michael didn’t forget to eat, since then he would insist on Gerry taking a break to eat something. Gerry only did if Michael did so, too, so they spent quite a few nights - or mornings, rather - eating on Michael’s desk for a couple minutes, before going back to whatever they were working on.

  
  


They did repeat their breakfast...date, too. It hadn’t really been a date, not the first time. But Michael ran out of what else to call such meetings when Gerry just kept giving him dazzling smiles and mischievous grins, and kept complimenting him. They did both decide to not do breakfast if it could be helped, though, so they didn’t exactly repeat _that_. Usually they met for dinner or just in the afternoon for coffee or the like. 

It felt odd to Michael because he rarely left the house besides to get to work, or maybe take the occasional lonesome walk. But it also felt wonderful because he found himself looking forward to seeing Gerry again and it did actually feel quite nice to have somebody along on his walks sometimes.

Michael wasn’t the only one feeling a bit out of his comfort zone. Gerry wasn't used to being around the same person for a longer time, barely used to really being around people in general. It was books and monsters for him. In fact, Gerry quite disliked when a human component was involved usually. They were quite unpredictable and tended to make things more complicated. 

So yes, actually wanting to see the same person again and again was new. Enjoying the fact that he could never quite predict the shade of red Michael's face would turn at his next sentence, that Michael would sometimes change topics in ways Gerry never expected, wasn’t an inconvenience at all. It made their conversations more exciting.

  
  


Despite Gerry continuously asking to meet again, Michael did not understand what he saw in him at all. In fact, every time he did ask, Michael was taken aback, not having expected to necessarily hear from him again, no matter how much fun Gerry seemed to have had on their last date. Michael didn’t understand, but he couldn't deny he enjoyed the attention. And so he tried to absorb as much as he could while bracing himself for the inevitable end. 

Sometimes it was hard to enjoy himself while his brain tried to come up with more possible, horrible ways this could come to an end. Of course the most likely one was Gerry getting tired of Michael. Michael could be a bit much. He was also never enough. Michael already knew that, thankfully, so he felt prepared for the most likely end. He just had to keep it in mind before he got too used to Gerry being around. It was just a matter of time until he would realise that Michael was really not worth it.

Michael still disliked thinking about it. So when the nights he was alone in the archive grew long and his tired mind started wandering to that, he would distract himself with research concerning Gerry’s book. As imagined, he couldn't quite forget about it. The knowledge nagged at him, the urge to try and help just getting stronger the better he got to know Gerry. Because Gerry was nice and kind and funny and he took enough pity on Michael to give him his time, and remember things Michael said and laugh at Michael's awful puns. Gerry deserved better. Better than Michael, yes, but first and foremost better than literally being haunted by his awful mother. 

  
  


Gerry was waiting with him at the bus stop one night when Michael decided to ask, "How does it look like?"

Gerry blinked, pulled out of his own thoughts, "What?"

"The book."

He was met with silence, which would have had him apologise quickly, if Michael hadn’t been used to it by now. Gerry knew that Michael had been trying to find out more about the book. He had even asked Gerry before about some detail he might be unable to find in the archive. 

Gerry didn’t like it. He really didn’t want Michael to get involved in the mess that was his life. Okay, maybe continuously asking him out wasn’t the ideal way to keep that from happening. But Gerry certainly didn’t want him to get sucked into _that_ part of it. And he had been trying to make that clear.

“Michael, I told you to leave it. You really don’t want to cross Gertrude.”

But apparently this was the one topic Michael did not back down from, no matter how many times Gerry told him he should, "I'm not crossing her. She told you she’d do it. I'm helping her."

"Without her knowing."

"If I can help it, she won't until it is too late.", his tone wasn’t any different when he said it, but the corners of his mouth were pulling into something akin to a smirk, and it was doing things to Gerry, so he looked away. 

It was difficult to try and talk Michael out of it when he was looking like that, excitement making his eyes shine, making him look so...alive. Gerry tried to remind himself that talking him out of it was to keep him alive, even if the current excitement would be dulled. It was probably generally concerning that the prospect of destroying a book behind his boss’ back was getting him in such a state in the first place, but Gerry really wasn’t one to judge. He remembered the thrill of even the smallest transgressions against his mother, sometimes still felt a shadow of it when he set fire to a Leitner he knew she would have loved to study. 

Gerry sighed, “She will find out when one of the Leitners is missing, Michael.”

“I know. I have thought this through, Gerry, I never do anything without doing that.”, Michael sighed, sounding somewhat frustrated. Gerry wasn’t sure if it was with Gerry or himself. “I’ve just come to the conclusion that that bridge will be crossed when I get to it. It doesn’t change the fact that I want to try to help.”, his jaw was set when he looked at Gerry again and a glint of determination was in his eyes. It looked strangely off, but also really fucking hot. Gerry looked away, feeling his cheeks warming.

He shook his head. Gerry didn’t say more and the bus was approaching the stop, anyways. He wondered if by now there was anything he could possibly say to make Michael reconsider. Usually, Michael was so quick to change his mind or step back from anything that might be met with the tiniest sign of disagreement. Too quick, in fact, and Gerry had spent more than one occasion trying to talk him down from the borderline panic he would work himself up to. But apparently, this was the one thing he had chosen to be stubborn about. Gerry sighed, returning the wave Michael gave him as a goodbye when stepping on the bus. His smile was back to shy.

  
  


Michael wasn’t unaffected by Gerry’s clear disapproval when it came to him researching the book, of course he wasn’t. His face fell as soon as Gerry was gone, revealing the conflict of going so directly against what he usually did, which was doing everything to please everybody. And he really did want Gerry to like him and if there were still doubts he had when it came to destroying that book they were all related to questions like ‘Is my constant going against his wishes going to make him hate me?’ and the likes. Michael shook his head. Even if, that’d just be a different shade of Gerry getting fed up with him, which was something Michael had made peace with, something inevitable. At least he told himself he had made peace with it as his grip on the hanhold tightened.

One way or another, Michael simply couldn’t forget or ignore the book. Certainly not with Gerry visibly suffering under it somewhat regularly. Michael started to be able to tell when she had visited him. He would be much quieter, his whole body language just a different kind of weary compared to his usual tiredness. He’d often bring the conversation towards a topic he knew Michael could go on and on about, then. 

When Michael apologised for never shutting up one time, Gerry had told him that that was the point, that he'd purposefully brought the conversation there because it calmed him to listen to Michael’s voice rather than having to come up with something himself. Michael had been shocked and confused, and also very flustered. 

He always offered Gerry his couch on those days. Gerry had turned the offer down the first couple times, but after realising that that only made Michael stay at work even longer because he didn’t want him to be alone, he had started to accept it. He felt guilty doing so, knowing that there was a good chance Mary would end up finding him there one day. But Michael always looked very happy about it, making it hard to back out of it again once he had started to accept the offer.

And it wasn’t like Gerry didn’t like being over at Michael’s. There was something calming about the place, its warm colour palette, the slight lavender scent that seemed omnipresent. It was nice. Much like Gerry’s host was. Michael had started to suggest them making those nights into some sort of movie night, since they rarely got any sleep anyways. 

Gerry had pointed out that Michael could get sleep if Gerry weren’t there, but Michael had shushed him, confessing that even on the nights Gerry had refused taking the couch, the knowledge of his state had still kept Michael awake. His voice had been but a murmur by the end of the sentence and he was looking away to hide his burning face, wringing his hands and probably reconsidering ever having opened his mouth. Gerry felt his face heat up, too, overwhelmed by the information Michael was revealing. And thoroughly endeared by the sight, too.

“O-Oh…”, was all he managed for an answer. 

Michael smiled awkwardly, “So...TV?”

Gerry nodded, smiling. When everything was set up and Michael settled down next to him on the couch, his earlier run-in with his mother felt somewhat muted by the calm he was feeling. 

“Michael?”

“Hm? Do you need something?”, Michael turned to look at him, worried.

Gerry pondered, “Not quite. I was just thinking I’d like to lean my head against your arm, if that’s okay.”, he met Michael’s gaze with a somewhat cheeky grin.

Michael looked taken aback, “O-Oh...I...yes, it is.”, he stuttered as he looked pointedly back at the TV. Gerry chuckled lightly, shuffling a little closer and carefully leaning his head against Michael’s arm. It felt colder than expected.

“You cold?”, he mumbled, looking up in Michael’s direction.

“A-Ah well...not really. I’m always kind of...cold.”, he smiled apologetically.

Gerry wasn’t sure if he meant he was always cold despite not feeling it or if he meant that he always felt cold, but he didn’t ask because Michael was wringing his hands again and Gerry was getting distracted by the motion. He reached out to cover them with his own, to make Michael stop.

“Wow, one would assume those would be warm from all the wringing at least…”, he mumbled, wrapping his hand around the one closer to him. It felt icy. He squeezed it gently.

Michael froze, fairly sure that his hands were cold because all the blood in his body was trying to fit in his face right now. He had already been bewildered by Gerry wanting to sit closer. Now he was _holding his hand_ and Michael was staring at their hands because he had tried to imagine this, had spend a lot of time looking at Gerry’s hands because they were beautiful and he kept wondering how they might feel and _now he knew_. 

Delicately, he squeezed back, trying to get a better feeling of the slightly rough skin. Michael was in awe as he traced the back of Gerry’s hand with his free hand, smoother compared to the palm pressed against Michael’s, but still undoubtedly the same hand. He couldn’t help the huff of laughter escaping him as he felt like the warmth spreading through his body from his hands might suffocate him. 

Gerry wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a sob and looked up at his face, away from Michael’s hands that kept caressing his hand. Michael looked so happy it nearly hurt to look at. It actually did hurt, but in a good way, Gerry’s chest tightening with fondness at the childlike joy displayed on the other man’s features. 

Gerry didn’t believe anyone could look like that knowing even only part of the truth. He much less imagined that anyone could ever look like that _because of him_. Even when Gerry had brought home a particularly appealing Leitner, his mother had never looked this overjoyed. And even if she would have, it would have been for the book, of course, not him. Michael, for some reason, was looking like this because he was playing with Gerry’s hand. Gerry hid his face in Michael’s arm, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. He squeezes Michael’s hand again and swallowed.

Michael noticed, of course, and his voice was full of concern again, “Gerry? Are you okay? Should...Do you want me to stop?”, he halted his movements.

“No.”, Gerry mumbled softly, “No, you can continue.”, he chuckled a little, “Maybe that’ll warm them.”

There was a moment of silence as Michael contemplated if he should push it or not. Gerry’s voice sounded somewhat strangled. Something clearly was off. Then again, it had probably been a very long day if Mary had found him again, so Michael decided to let Gerry nuzzle his arm in peace, and used his other hand to continue exploring Gerry’s hand, tracing his knuckles, the small eye tattoos, his nails. Michael took it all in, enraptured not only by how it felt under his fingers, but also by how it looked, his own pale skin against Gerry’s slightly darker one. The contrast somehow seemed so stark and Michael should maybe really consider getting more sunlight. 

When Gerry squeezed his other hand, he didn’t feel like he might be having a heart attack, which Michael considered a victory. Instead, he squeezed the warm hand back softly, letting it rest between them. Gerry turned his head back towards the TV after having focused on the soft pads of Michael’s fingers against his knuckles, the slight scraping of Michael’s fingernails against Gerry’s palm, long enough to calm down from the overwhelming mixture of emotions he had felt a moment prior. Now, there was a small but content smile on his lips as he simply allowed himself to enjoy, paying more attention to Michael’s breathing than to the TV, but being thankful to have something to focus his eyes on that wasn’t that overwhelming expression of joy on Michael’s face. 

When both of them were starting to drift of to sleep, Michael insistent on letting Gerry lie down properly and going to bed himself - after Gerry made it clear that no, he would not be taking the bed and make Michael sleep on his own couch, it really wouldn’t make him sleep better - it was already way past midnight. Michael felt light and he couldn’t stop smiling as he bid Gerry goodnight. The giddy feeling ebbed off quickly, though, as Michael got ready for bed. Nothing Michael wasn’t used to, but it dropped so much further than usual as he realised, slowly, what he had done. 

The fact that he let himself indulge, let himself find out, thoroughly, how Gerry’s hands felt against his own and now, now he couldn’t unknow it, and would have to live with the memory when Gerry left. And Michael also didn’t want to forget it again, wanted to cling to the warmth of those hands, and that, most of all, was what made his heart sink. It would be worse, so much worse, now, and Michael was sure it was close, too. It had been over a month and Michael had waited for Gerry to start ignoring him, to stop talking to him, to leave. He had been ready. 

Michael told himself, again and again, to be ready. And now? Now he was terrified. Now he knew how much he actually wanted for Gerry to stick around, how much he craved holding those hands again and again and again. Michael wanted to hear that smooth voice joking and teasing and just talking more and more. He had tried so hard to not want, to stop himself from getting too attached, as always, and suffer later. But it had still happened. And now there were so many more things he would miss. Michael was sitting in his bed by the time all of it sank in and he tried, hard, to keep his weeping down.

  
  


Michael slept with his door open and Gerry had spent years training himself to be easily awoken from the smallest noise. So he heard the sobbing. He wasn't even really asleep when he did, so the confusion only lasted a second. Sobbing from Michael's room. Michael was sobbing. Something happened, was happening. Gerry’s bad luck had caught up with him. Gerry was practically jogging to the bedroom door, hoping the fact that he was wearing socks would still muffle his steps somewhat. 

It was mostly dark as far as Gerry could see through the crack in the door. A suggestion of a light source seemed to be coming from one side, probably a window. He vaguely remembered there being a window next to the street lamp outside. Gerry had his pocket knife ready as he carefully toed the door open further. 

No odd smells, no questionable feelings, no weird noises. Gerry had come to distrust the absence of those just as much. It just made it more difficult to quickly figure out what he was dealing with. Gerry didn't care right now, though, because whatever it was it was drawing broken, muffled sobs from Michael and Gerry was somewhat surprised at how angry that made him feel. Michael shouldn’t have to be making such pained noises, not when his laughter was the prettiest sound Gerry had ever heard from a human. 

Gerry couldn't make out much in the room. The light from the window was dimmed by curtains. Michael was sitting against the head of his bed, rolled up impossibly small and Gerry couldn't see his face even as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was hidden behind curls and pressed into knees that were drawn to his chest. What he could vaguely make out was that Michael was clutching his arms that were wrapped around his knees. Not in a way that would suggest they got injured, but in a way to hurt, fingers digging into flesh in what could only be painful, even with how short Michael kept his nails.

Gerry forgot his stealth at that, quickly closing the space between them and then he was carefully prying away Michael’s fingers from his arms. Michael jumped at the sudden contact and Gerry cursed himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Michael. It's just me, okay?", he looked up to try to see Michael’s face, but it was still buried in his knees and covered by hair, "Hey..", Gerry squeezed his hands lightly and Michael quickly straightened up. His face was wet with tears.

"I-I'm sorry I woke you." He took his hands away, as if burned and started to furiously wipe at his face. 

"I wasn't sleeping.”, Gerry explained, calmly, voice full of worry, “What...what happened?" 

Gerry reached out to brush away the strands of hair stuck to Michael's forehead, but he stopped himself before he could touch him. He wasn’t sure if Michael would pull away again and Gerry didn’t want to make it worse, whatever it even was. So he let his hands fall back.

Michael laughed and it was clearly meant to be light but it sounded horribly broken and Gerry felt so very helpless, because he wanted to pull him into his arms and comfort him, but he wasn’t sure if that wouldn’t make it worse. Gerry was worrying his lip, taking Michael in, his shaking shoulders and folded up form. He wanted to help.

Michael started, "No-Nothing. God, I'm so sorry. I'm really not being a very pleasant host I...I understand...if you...want to...l-leave..", his voice broke off at the end as another sob wrecked him and he buried his face in his hands.

"What? Michael I'm not going anywhere.", Gerry was confused, trying to work out if he had said anything or done something that might suggest that. Again, he brought his hands up, but they were hovering uselessly, still unsure whether is would be okay to touch Michael. “Michael, look at me. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t...I don’t know what made you think that, but it wasn’t my intention-”

“You didn’t do anything!”, Michael interrupted, head shooting up from behind his hands. Now he had somehow managed to make Gerry feel bad for nothing. If Michael kept going, he might indeed cut this acquaintance short quickly. But Gerry shouldn’t be left believing he had done anything wrong. Michael would never forgive himself for that. “You did nothing wrong.”, he forced out, trying to keep the waver in his voice down as much as he could and wiping away the fresh tears.

“Then...then what happened?”, and Gerry sounded so uncertain that Michael hated himself just a little more for making him sound like that.

He swallowed, trying to think about what to say, but his mind was still whirring and his throat was sore from crying and the way Gerry was looking at him, eyes so full of worry, was making his lower lip shake again. He looked away to stifle another sob, running his fingers through his hair.

“Tea.”

Gerry blinked, confused, “W-What?”

Michael climbed out of bed and Gerry stepped away to let him, still looking like he had no idea what was going on. Well, he hadn’t. Michael hesitated for a moment, but decided to take Gerry’s hand to pull him into the kitchen. Gerry was surprised at that, but didn’t say anything. He simply followed.

When Michael started trying - and failing, due to his shaking hands - to fill the kettle, Gerry finally understood what the tea part had meant. He gently moved to take the kettle from Michael, but Michael’s shaky hand simply tightened around it, knuckles going white with the force.

“Michael, let me help. Sit down.”

“You don’t...you shouldn’t. You’re my guest!”, Michael sounded frustrated, but Gerry couldn’t tell if it was with him or his own hand, which he was glaring at.

“Please...let me help.”, Gerry tried again, softer this time, and Michael relented, stepping away to lean against the table and watch Gerry put the kettle on. It made his heart hurt, watching Gerry use his kitchen like this. He liked it, it looked good, the black against all the creams and whites. It was a dream he swatted right away, but he knew it would still creep back to the surface.

A heavy silence settled over them as Gerry made their tea when the kettle was done, and Michael really should look away or this would just be another memory to miss but he didn't want to. He wanted to take in as much of it as he could. Gerry in his kitchen, beautiful hands making tea for himself and Michael, who was keeping him from much-needed rest. Why was Michael like this? He should just fucking decide whether he wanted to enjoy this or cut it out before it became too painful. He was inconveniencing Gerry with it, too.

Gerry held out one of the mugs towards Michael, who at least had stopped shaking as badly. He only let go of the mug when Michael was holding it in both of his hands, somewhat steady. Michael held it close to his face, taking in the calming scent, trying to make his thoughts take on a more streamlined shape. 

Gerry wasn’t sure how to interrupt the silence, wasn’t sure whether he should really be the one to do so, and so he himself take a careful sip from his own mug. He watched Michael’s shoulders relax slowly as he drank, too. He was waiting for Michael to say something.

Michael felt Gerry’s gaze on him, and he was starting to find the silence suffocating, but he didn’t know what to say.

“T-Thank you...for the tea.”, he ended up saying lamely.

“I...okay, you’re welcome.”, Gerry sighed, feeling a little ridiculous about being thanked for making Michael’s tea in Michael’s kitchen. He leaned next to him against the table, “Are...Will you tell me...what...happened?”, Gerry still remembered the joy on Michael’s face he had seen on there probably less than an hour ago. Now he looked exhausted, eyes red and puffy, hair messy and eyes sad. It broke Gerry’s heart.

Michael swallowed, bringing the mug close to his chest. “Nothing, really. Nothing happened. I just...I remembered. I...I let myself forget, earlier. On the couch. But then...then I…”, his shoulders were starting to shake again, and he cut himself off as to not start crying again. He was truly pathetic.

Gerry still didn’t understand, “You remembered? You remembered what?”

Michael licked his lips, staring intently into the tea, “That that’s...how it goes.”

“What? Michael, please, I just...I want to understand…”

Michael’s voice was small when he continued after a moment, “I remembered that people always...leave. They get tired.”, he realised he was starting to sound like he felt very sorry for himself and quickly added, “Which is fine! I...I understand. I just need to...remind myself. Because...because if I enjoy something too much...it will hurt. Later...W...When you’ve left.”

Gerry listened, trying to pick up everything despite Michael’s voice constantly dropping into a mumbled whisper before suddenly getting louder again. And then he tried to process what he’d heard. The relief of not having done anything wrong was washed away quite quickly by a cold realisation. Gerry of course had noticed from the start how anxious Michael always was, how eager to be useful. That sentiment wasn’t utterly alien to Gerry. This, however, was something deeper, worse. And it was making Michael choke on tears again and Gerry wanted to make it stop. 

But how? Gerry wasn't the best at dealing with his own emotions, all repression and ignorance. He didn't know what the right thing to do was, what he could possibly say to sooth Michael's worries. Could he even do that? Michael was clutching his mug and losing the fight with his tears again, his shoulders hunched and shaking. He was probably expecting Gerry to blow up at him or leave or something ridiculous like that. Gerry wanted nothing more than to know how to comfort him, to make it stop.

"Michael?", he tried softly, because he was afraid his tone might spook Michael as his gaze sometimes did.

Michael still nearly jumped, looking at Gerry carefully, expression...well, he looked like he was bracing himself for a blow; emotional or physical, Gerry couldn't tell. Gerry's stomach dropped.

"Can I hug you?", Gerry managed after recovering from that expression somewhat.

Michael froze, looking up through new tears, "Gerry you don't...you don't have to-"

"But I want to."

Michael's eyebrows drew together in confusion. He eyed Gerry, unbelieving, unsure how to react. This wasn't what he had expected. Tentatively, Michael nodded, still half-expecting for Gerry to turn on his heel and walk away from the utter mess that was Michael. 

Instead, he carefully removed the mug from Michael's grip and put it on the table with his own, before putting his arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was loose enough that Michael could easily step out of it if he wanted, but tight enough for him to really feel Gerry pressed against his chest, strong arm against Michael's back. Michael was confused and overwhelmed, and sobbing again. He bent down to hide his face on Gerry's shoulder as Gerry started rubbing gentle circles into his back. Michael did not understand what he had done to deserve this.

"I don't know what happened to you to think like this, Michael, and you don't need to tell me, but please listen to me.", Gerry's voice was clear and steady, much steadier than what he felt like, "I'm not planning to go anywhere anytime soon. Well, unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.", he added quickly, not wanting to sound like Michael just had to accept the fate of Gerry sticking around, whether he wanted or not.

"I...I'd never-", Michael mumbled but Gerry shook his head.

"Yes, I'm starting to believe that, too.", he said with a soft smile, "Just...needed to make that clear. Whatever, so, I'm not going anywhere. You have done nothing to ever make me consider that. I like being around you, that's why I keep trying to spend time with you. You...I...I like you.”, Gerry took a steadying breath, glad Michael’s face was buried in his shoulder so he couldn’t see Gerry’s burning face, “I like being with you. And I don't really know what I'm doing. If...if I ever do anything that makes you feel like this, please tell me? I...there's a high chance it'd be some misunderstanding.”, he sighed.

Michael sniffed, “But I’m...not...there’s better. You...you deserve better. I _am_ the reason.”, he was holding on to Gerry, fingers clenching in his shirt.

“Michael.”, Gerry gently pushed Michael away, holding him by his arms, only enough so he could look into Michael’s face. He carefully brushed the tears away before continuing, “That’s simply not true. You...if it were, I wouldn’t keep wanting to see you. You...you’ve been nothing but kind and…”, Gerry really hated his inability to express himself, 

“I...you looked so happy earlier? It...it was nearly painful to look at - oh no that came out wrong, wait - it was...it was overwhelming because I never thought anyone would ever look like that ...could ever look like that because of...me. it looked good on you and I...I would like to try and make you look like that again. If...if you let me. I...I want to try and make this work, okay?”

Michael had frozen and Gerry was unsure if maybe he had overdone it, said something wrong. “A...Are you okay?”

Michael swallowed heavily, “I...I don-don’t know…”

Gerry looked at him. He wasn’t shaking anymore, at least, “How about you stay on the couch with me for tonight?”, Gerry asked gently. He didn’t want to leave Michael alone with his thoughts again.

“You...you need to sleep.”

“I was falling asleep with you there earlier, too. It’s fine, okay?”

Michael nodded hesitantly. He was dreading to go back into his dark room and be alone with his thoughts, so he was thankful for the offer.

He let Gerry lead him to the couch again. They sat down, but Michael turned around to look at Gerry before latter could lean against him, “You can lie down, if… if you want.”

Gerry looked at him and smiled, “Okay.”

He stretched out on the couch, resting his feet on one of the armrests and his head in Michael’s lap. Michael was looking down at him, somewhat surprised. That wasn’t quite what he had expected, but was surely not going to complain about it. He reached out to brush a strand of hair stuck in Gerry’s eyebrow, but halted, hand hovering over his face awkwardly.

“Ah...may I?”, he mumbled, smiling sheepishly.

Gerry nodded, “Yeah, feel free.”

Michael brushed the strand aside at that, tentatively. Gerry sighed appreciatively. He was tired. And next week he was out for a hunt again, promising little rest. He sighed again.

"What is it?"

"Just remembered I'll be after a Leitner for probably half of next week."

Michael’s lips pulled into a thin line, "Ah...be careful."

"Always am.", Gerry grinned.

"Last time you came back with your face all scratched up!"

Michael’s tone made Gerry laugh. 

"What? It’s true!", Michael added defensively.

"Yes, yes, but you said that like you're ready to go and scratch it back for revenge."

"Maybe I am.", Michael grinned and it was still a little watery but he was getting there, "I think I'd have to let my nails grow out a bit first, though.", he added, gently dragging his short nails over Gerry’s scalp.

Gerry hummed and grinned. He’d rather not have Michael meet what had scratched him up back then, but it made for an interesting image. He closed his eyes.

Michael continued running his fingertips through Gerry’s hair and watched him calm down, breathing slowing down and face going slack as sleep started to take him. Michael’s head was a mess and he was glad he could distract himself by studying Gerry’s face. It was calming in itself, and it helped with sorting his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. He didn’t know what had gotten into him to even tell Gerry. Michael never did. He didn’t want to guilt trip people into sticking around or something. Well, it was too late now. 

Michael sighed. He wanted to believe Gerry, he really did. It had felt good to hear those things, if he let himself admit it. And he wanted to try to believe him. It was just that Gerry didn’t know. Michael eventually always got too much to deal with. Or with time whatever he lacked became more obvious, grating. It had always been different for each person Michael had dared to get attached to in the past. But it had always ended with them leaving, to hopefully find somebody worthwhile. And Michael didn’t see how Gerry wouldn’t feel the same eventually. 

Sure, things had been going surprisingly well. They really had, now that Michael reflected on their time together. He had often been too paranoid to let himself get too used to the company to truly appreciate how...nice their acquaintance had really been until now. Gerry still hadn’t shown any sign of boredom or annoyance. Now Michael eyed him suspiciously, though he couldn’t really come up with any possible ulterior motive for pretending not to be getting annoyed by Michael’s presence. 

If he wanted Michael to do anything, he’d only need to ask, and Michael would. Michael wanted Gerry to like him. And apparently he did. Michael blushed at the memory of him saying that. A lot of the words he had said made Michael blush now that he had the time and was in the state of mind to properly think about it. Yes, he wanted to make this work too, for as long as it may last. And maybe he should try to work on not breaking down about every new experience, knowing it would haunt him later on. He could try to just enjoy the now, as long as he could. For Gerry.

  
  


Michael was always anxious when he knew Gerry was on one of his jobs again. Well, more than usual. Up until now, he had only come back with some bruises or scratched, but Michael remembered clearly how his reaction to Michael’s fretting over the scratches on his face had been “I got lucky.”. 

If those were lucky, then what would happen if Gerry ran out of luck one of the times? Michael didn’t know details, but Gerry had told him enough to know that his jobs were always dangerous. So it was difficult to focus on work on the days he knew Gerry might be struggling right now against some monster or running for his life. 

Michael had to control the urge to call him. He didn’t want to be a bother. The last thing Gerry needed to make it through whatever mission he was trying to accomplish this time was distraction. He did send Michael the occasional text, telling him he was fine, sometimes adding jokingly that he had even remembered to eat or something like that. Michael always felt a little lighter when he got one of those. They were few and far between though, so his worry would usually still catch up with him. 

This week, it was kept at bay by him still thinking about the conversation in his kitchen. It felt unreal outside of his apartment, and part of him was starting to wonder if it hadn’t just been a dream. Then again, Michael did hope he could come up with something better than him crying at Gerry’s shoulder for his wishful thinking. 

Michael had decided to try to hold on to the words, though. He wanted to try to remember them, for whenever his thoughts turned dark again. Wanted to see if they would help him calm himself down a bit. When Gerry had left that morning Michael had still been too agitated for his thoughts to drag him down into the darkness again. But he knew it would happen again, and he did want to try, like Gerry had asked. 

Michael sighed, rereading the paragraph he had been trying to get through yet again. He would probably have to work late again with how slow he was progressing. Which was fine for him, he had planned to look into Gerry’s book business again anyways.

Despite the rather eventful night the last time, Michael hadn’t forgotten about that. In fact, maybe studying Gerry’s face for so long throughout the night had just made it more obvious how his mother’s visits were affecting him. Michael had had to wake him twice that night, calm features having pulled into a mask of pain and fear and too many more things Michael never wanted Gerry to experience. It was such a stark contrast from the peaceful face of sleep, even from the mostly blank expression he kept around others. 

It hurt to know Gerry kept being hurt by that stupid book and Michael wanted to be rid of it. He knew that that wouldn’t remove the nightmares and the fact that Gerry kept getting into dangerous situations. But it was a start. One inconvenience removed. And one Michael believed he could help with. He sighed again. First, though, he needed to finally finish his follow-ups for today.

  
  


The week passed rather uneventful and it was the night before Gerry had planned to return to London when Michael heard the knocking. He had been about to call it a night and go to bed. He had tried and managed to get his work finished on time so he could be at his best should Gerry come back with any injuries that might need to be tended to. 

He hesitated for a moment, already halfway to his bedroom, but ended up opening the door in the end. Gerry was leaning in the doorframe and Michael nearly jumped. He was breathing hard, sweaty and dirty and covered in something that looked suspiciously like blood. As far as Michael could tell, though, he didn’t seem hurt. 

“Gerry!”, Michael’s voice went an octave higher at the sight.

“Hi. I’m sorry, can you...can you let me in?”, Gerry managed an apologetic smile.

Michael quickly stepped to the side, letting him in. He helped Gerry out of his coat. It was sticky, “Is this...blood? Are you alright?”

“Not mine. And actually not sure if you could call it that, he seemed far gone…”, Gerry mumbled stepping out of his boots. He was still panting and allowed himself a moment to simply lean against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to bring his heart rate down. This didn’t go as planned. “And yes, I am. Just really out of breath.”

“Weren’t you supposed to only come back tomorrow…?” Michal was saying, keeping his voice surprisingly calm, but Gerry could still hear the edge of panic creeping into it. 

“Yeah well, I took a risk and finished earlier, took an earlier train down because I heard something of another book here in London but when I arrived at my apartment...well, I was being expected and the welcome wasn’t very pleasant.”, he felt completely disgusting and could tell that Michael was also starting to notice the stench of the not-blood through his rising panic. He was scrunching his nose. It looked awfully cute. “I was careful about not being followed. I was just...really getting tired…”, Gerry sighed.

“Did you walk here?” Michael asked unbelieving. They weren’t exactly neighbours, not by a long shot. 

“I ran. and I had to make sure about the following part, so I couldn’t come the most direct route. And-”

Michael shook his head, “Enough, get yourself into the shower, the smell is making me dizzy.”, he sounded defeated, but was still eyeing Gerry worried, “Can you walk?”

Gerry huffed a laughter, but choked on it, coughing instead, “If I made it here, I can surely make it the last couple steps.”, he detached himself from the wall and the room tipped a little, but he caught himself and made his way to the bathroom, steps unsteady.

Michael walked to the door to his room, but waited until Gerry had actually made it into the bathroom. He sighed, disappearing into his room to rummage for something in his closet that might fit Gerry somewhat. He made his way to the bathroom and knocked, “I’ll...leave the clothes in front of the door, okay?”, he called out. He heard a muffled ‘yes’ and moved back towards the entrance. 

  
  


Michael really didn’t want to think about that reddish-black stuff staining his floor where Gerry had left his boots and coat, so he made a sharp turn into the kitchen instead, and started the kettle. He could feel his heart starting to race as his brain caught up to the situation. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing, trying to keep it together. Gerry was fine. He had looked fine. Whatever that stuff was, it hadn’t hurt him. It was fine. He listened to the distant noise of the shower as he poured the boiling water over the teabags.

By the time he heard Gerry walking down the hallway, Michael was calm. Well, as calm as he ever got, really. The moment Gerry came into view, he jumped up from his chair he had just sat down on. The sweatpants and jumper he had given Gerry were, of course, too big on him and he was drowning in fabric, which looked even odder considering Michael had never even seen Gerry in long sleeves. Besides his coat, of course. Michael would have probably appreciated the sight more if he weren’t frantically scanning for injuries with his eyes.

Gerry sighed, “I’m fine, really.” He came to sit down in the chair in front of Michael. “Only cut my hand two days ago, but it’s nearly healed.”, he added, laying his hand on the table, palm up, so Michael could take a look at the healing cut on the side of it. 

Michael sighed, sitting back down and taking Gerry’s hand to look more closely. It looked like it had been a quite deep cut, but it was indeed healing. But healed wasn’t what Michael would call it. 

“Wait here.”, he got up again and walked to the bathroom. Gerry watched him go, slightly confused. Moments later, Michael came back with the first aid kit. “That hand is still going to get infected if you don’t take care of it.”, he mumbled, looking at Gerry, “Can I…?”

Gerry nodded, “Feel free, I’ve never been very good at bandaging my left hand.”

Michael sat down and started to get to work, “Not ambidextrous?”, he mumbled, disinfecting the cut carefully first.

“Not at all.”, Gerry laughed a little, “Though I guess my bandaging skills in general might not be the best.”

Michael sighed, “At least you seem fine otherwise…”, he pushed the tea towards Gerry, “Here. Drink.”, and Gerry did. He was thirsty. And the warmth of the tea combined with the lingering warmth of the shower added to him feeling calm after the chase. He closed his eyes and sighed as Michael’s fingers gently dressed his cut.

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m good, thank you, Michael.”, Gerry mumbled, looking at the other man again after he felt him letting go of his hand. He was already missing the touch. The memory of Michael’s fingers on his hand was one that hadn’t left Gerry alone since he left last week. “This looks quite professional.”, he says as he looks at the bandage.

“Thank you? I...I took a first aid course a couple years ago…”, Michael gave him one of his shy smiles and Gerry automatically smiled back.

“Looks like you can finally put it to use.”

Michael’s face fell, “Oh, I’d rather you’d be more careful, Gerry…”

Gerry chuckled and sipped his tea. “I am, really. I wasn’t expecting them to besiege my apartment.”

“Them?”

“I’ve been wondering that, too...”

Michael sighed again. He still hated that he couldn’t be of much help with Gerry’s book hunts. Well, not that Gerry ever let him try. He never told Michael all the details. Michael tried to be thankful that he was told some at all. Gerry had told him he didn’t want Michael to get involved because it might be dangerous. But Michael was fairly sure he was worried about him getting in his way. And realistically, Gerry was probably right to believe that Michael wouldn’t be of much help. 

Which reminded Michael of something he might be able to help with. He put his mug down and looked back at Gerry, “Since you’re here...I wanted to ask your opinion on something when you come back.”

Gerry looked up again, curious, “Hm?”

“Say we find the book...where would be the best place to burn it?”

Gerry was stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected this, certainly not combined with Michael’s intense eyes looking right at him. Gerry sighed and ran his unbandaged hand through his hair.

“Michael, just forget about it. I’ll figure something out.”, he didn’t sound very sure about that, rather resigned. 

"Why are you so eager to keep me away from the book?", Michael pressed.

Gerry drew his eyebrows together, "Why are you so eager to get the book?"

"I want to help."

"You should look out for yourself before jumping in to help others."

Now Michael laughed, "From the couple statements I've read that feature you, you dont follow that advice yourself. You're quite reckless."

Gerry couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face, "Fair. But you're usually so careful."

"Paralysingly so. As I said, it's not that I haven't considered the many ways this could go south. But I want to help. I don’t...you deserve this to stop.", he sounded desperate, more than he should have considering they were still talking about Gerry’s life being made hell by his mother, not Michael’s. It was somewhat worrying how personally affected Michael seemed to be.

Gerry sighed, looking at the tea in his hands, mumbling, "I should have done it myself I...if only I could have…"

"She's your mother."

"Never a caring one.", Gerry countered and looked back at Michael, somewhat defensively. 

He didn’t know why. There was nothing accusing in Michael’s voice. He was just stating a fact. Gerry seemed to be reacting to his own thoughts, rather. The ones that had made it impossible to even try to destroy that book himself when he had finally hunted it down.

"A person doesn't need to be caring for you to care about them, Gerry.", Michael’s voice was soft and there was something in his eyes, for just a moment, that made Gerry’s heart tighten.

Gerry swallowed, "I don't want you to have to deal with Mary."

"I won't have to if everything goes well.", Michael smiled, but it was thin.

"What if it doesn’t?", Gerry was searching Michael’s eyes for any sign of him backing down. He didn’t find any.

Michael sighed, "It's still worth a try. Let me help."

Gerry sighed, putting up his hands in defeat. There apparently was no way to talk Michael out of it, so he might as well try to assist him, "I'll tell you what I know."

"Thank you.", Michael’s smile was sweet, but his eyes looked very satisfied with himself for once. Gerry had to grin.

  
  


Gerry was on his way back to his apartment a couple weeks later, after a rather futile following up of some of the leads he had gathered for some Flesh related artefact, when his phone vibrated. It was probably well past 2am by now, and Gerry had no clue who would be texting him at such hours during the week. When he saw Michael’s name on the screen, he got worried. 

He unlocked the phone to read. The message simply read ‘I found it’. Gerry froze. He turned on his heels and started walking towards the Institute. He quickly typed an answer. ‘Be there soon. Don’t wait’.

His thoughts were whirring on his way. Gerry frankly hadn’t expected this to go anywhere. It had been one of the reasons why he eventually caved in and cooperated. He hadn’t expected Michael to actually find it. It seemed like he had greatly underestimated the blond.

He made a beeline for the back courtyard, which had been his suggestion when Michael had asked about burning the book a week or so ago. Had he known where it was then already? Known he was close? Gerry hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to further encourage Michael, still considered it too dangerous. Clearly, Michael hadn’t let that stop him.

Gerry spotted him easily, but mostly because he knew what to look for. Michael had found a good spot where even if it hadn’t been 2am in the morning, people passing by wouldn’t see him. That’s when the smell hit Gerry. Burning skin. He approached carefully, so as not to spook Michael, whose eyes were transfixed on the smoldering book in the bin in front of him.

He looked up when Gerry came to a stop next to him, and Gerry froze. Michael was glowing. Not in the literal sense, but his eyes were alight with the thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to, his grin the widest Gerry had ever seen it. It looked like it might very well be painful. Combined with his wide eyes and wild hair he looked somewhat manic, body alert with the rush of adrenaline. 

Gerrys mouth suddenly felt dry. Licking his lips did little to fix that, so he forced his eyes down to look at the remnants of the books, turning to ashes. Gerry wasn’t quite sure if that was the view that started making his heart beat faster. It did, however, made him feel relief like he never had before. The book was barely recognisable, and seeing that made him feel so much _lighter_ . The unpleasant smell was welcome, reminding him that yes, this had been the book he had come to Gertrude with months ago. This was the origin of constant, somewhat regular suffering. It had been. Now it was a pile of ashes. It was gone. It was _over_.

Gerry looked back up at Michael. He looked just as wild, but his expression shifted into one of worry as he met Gerry’s gaze, “O-Oh, hey...are...are you okay?”

Gerry didn’t understand until he realised he was crying, tears falling silently. It was over. He brushed the tears away and nodded, grinning at Michael, eyes bright despite the tears, "You...you did it."

"I...did it.", Michael answered and the wide grin found its way onto his lips again. There was an edge of panic in his voice, but his eyes were back to being alight with excitement.

Gerry had to look away from those intense eyes, glanced at the bin. Ashes. Over. 

Michael followed his gaze, mumbling again, “I did it…”, and it sounded more like a question, surprise and awe clear in his voice. Apparently Gerry hadn’t been the only one to underestimate Michael. In fact, Michael looked even more surprised than Gerry felt. Gerry had to laugh.

Michael seemed confused first, but eventually laughed, too. His laughter was high pitched, clearly still on the edge of mania. It made Gerry’s skin tingle. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad tingle, but he was feeling too much to particularly care about it.

"How can I thank you?", Gerry asked, when the laughter died off and he couldn’t stop staring at the light blush dusting Michael’s cheeks. 

"Ah...you could kiss me...if you want?", he started out sounding confident, but by the end of the sentence his grin had turned into a sheepish smile, his voice softer and shy and his cheeks were burning, not from the rush.

Gerry really didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Michael by his sweater and pulled him down and into a heated kiss. Michael nearly stumbled, a surprised noise escaping him at Gerry’s enthusiasm. He got over his initial shock, though, and returned the kiss just as fervently. 

They pulled away after a gust of wind made Michael shiver, but Gerry didn’t let go of his sweater, “Thank you.”, he said earnestly, looking into Michael’s eyes.

Gerry didn’t think Michael could blush any more, but he managed, “I...uh...message received?”, he chuckled, and it sounded a little squeaky and Gerry’s heart melted.

“We should go.”, Gerry added, finally bringing himself to let go of Michael and step away. It was the last thing he wanted to do in that moment, really.

“Yes, uh...do you...want to keep the ashes?”, Michael asked, nodding towards the bin.

Gerry shook his head. They cleaned up and little later they were walking home. Michael didn’t specifically invite Gerry, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain when Gerry took his hand and started walking towards Michael’s apartment. Michael felt light from all the excitement, the thrill, and Gerry’s warm hand in his, the lingering feeling of Gerry’s lips on his own just made everything even better. Michael was happy, and for once he ignored the part of himself that was doubting.

  
  


“Do you want to eat something?”, Gerry asked when they came into Michael’s apartment, just because it was a safe bet that Michael hadn’t eaten anything in his excitement today.

Michael seemed to consider for a moment, before shaking his head, “I think...I’d rather kiss you again.”, his smile was halfway between cheeky and shy and Gerry was rather fascinated by it.

Gerry grinned, “That can be arranged.”, he put his arms around Michael’s neck and met his lips halfway for another kiss, this one slower, and Michael melted into it as he ran his fingers through Gerry’s hair.

They pulled away after a moment, but not fully. Michael was twisting a strand of poorly dyed black hair around his fingers as he dared to look into Gerry’s eyes.

“Let’s sit down?”, Gerry mumbled because Michael had bend down to his height and that couldn’t be a very comfortable position.

Michael looked at him, thinking, before hesitantly asking, “Bedroom?”

Gerry returned his gaze and brushed a blond curl behind Michael’s ear. It plopped right back to where it had been. Gerry smiled, “That’s up to you.”

Michael returned the smile, pulled away completely so he could straighten up. He took Gerry’s hand to pull him along to the bedroom. 


	2. Dark Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad with this one so uh...take care.

Michael had expected Gerry’s visits to stop after his mother was gone for good. They didn’t. In fact, Gerry came over more often. Michael was always searching for an excuse to invite him over, but eventually, with Gerry agreeing even at the flimsiest of excuses, Michael simply worked up the courage to suggest him coming over whenever he felt like it. And apparently, Gerry felt like it a lot.

At least on weekends, when he wasn't busy with his hunts, he tended to come over. It wasn't too different from their usual meetings - dates - and Gerry quite enjoyed being able to bask in the calm of that apartment without worrying about Mary finding him there. 

Now it truly felt like a bit of a haven, despite Gerry being well aware that that wasn't the case, strictly speaking. But it was easy to pretend when he started to fall asleep to long fingers running through his hair somewhat regularly. Michael started braiding it because he believed that helped with it not getting too tangled when Gerry started tossing in sleep. Gerry let him because, well, firstly it felt really nice and made him sleepy, and secondly Michael's eyes lit up wonderfully when he felt like he was helping. It was intoxicating to look at and Gerry's favourite view to fall asleep to.

There were still nightmares regularly, but Michael found it easier to wake Gerry up without touching him when he didn't have to worry about him falling off the couch. When Gerry was awake, Michael would pull him into his arms and hold him as he calmed down from the dream, fingers drawing calming patterns on Gerry’s back as he rocked him gently until the shaking subsided. 

  
  


More than once Gerry tried to reason that he should rather sleep on the couch again so at least Michael could catch some rest, but Michael didn't want to hear any of it. The fact that Gerry was usually still gripping onto him for dear life when he suggested that did nothing for Michael to even consider it. No, he much rather lost sleep himself if that meant he could help Gerry calm down the moment he felt Gerry starting to twitch and toss next to him.

As to make up for the unpleasant nights - which really weren't that bad, Michael reassured him, he'd had worse - Gerry made them breakfast most of the times. It turned out that even with sleep cut short by nightmares, he still woke up before Michael most of the times if latter didn't set an alarm. 

One of Gerry's favourite things to do when he found that out was simply watching Michael’s sleeping face for a bit. Michael tended to look away when Gerry looked at him for too long or too intensely when awake. So Gerry tried to not stare at him when awake. He didn't want to make Michael uncomfortable. 

But in sleep he could take in the features, his cute nose, the golden lashes that were surprisingly thick from up close. Gerry started counting the pale freckles, somewhat anxious about the fact that Michael might awake any moment and get spooked by how closely Gerry was looking at him. But Michael never did. 

So Gerry careluffy detangled himself from the taller man and slipped out of bed. Sometimes Michael complained, drifting into something close to consciousness only to wrinkle his nose in disapproval at the missing warmth, before rolling up into a tight ball, sometimes tucking even his head underneath the covers. Gerry could very rarely resist smoothing the mess of hair down that still peeked out from under the covers, and sometimes Michael would mumble something, probably for him to get back in, it was hard to tell with his voice muffled by sleep and the bedsheets. It was difficult to resist the suggestion, but Gerry usually managed to make his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen instead. There was a soft smile on his lips as he started breakfast, careful to not be too loud.

Michael would emerge after a while, and Gerry would never stop being impressed by how he managed to look incredibly happy and thankful, and equally as guilty when he saw Gerry making breakfast. Eventually, the happiness won out and Michael would approach with a shy smile to press his lips to Gerry’s temple and undo Gerry’s braid, carefully combing through it with his fingers, and mumbling a 'thank you' and 'good morning' in that order. Gerry quite liked hearing those words spoken so softly to him and it made him feel like the world was okay.

  
  


The world, of course, was not. They were both on edge throughout the weeks that followed the book burning, waiting for Gertrude to notice and confront somebody.

Michael threw himself into work, trying to focus his nervous energy into it. Gerry seemed to be doing the same, spending more time at the Institute, and seemingly getting quite absorbed into his research. Michael, who definitely did not have enough work to actually keep his mind from drifting to the dread he was feeling, ended up asking Gerry if he could help. And to Michael’s surprise, he said yes. Michael felt a little silly about how excited that made him.

Gerry accepted his help mostly because, besides being after another Leitner, he was busy looking into the misplacement of archival assistants in the last years. It had been something he heard about, and it had been at the back of his mind ever since. With Gertrude’s suspicious non-reaction about the skin book disappearing, and her coming back from her last trip an assistant short, Gerry felt like finally looking into it properly.

Gertrude hadn’t necessarily _not_ told him where they went, but he needed something to focus on while the edge of a possible confrontation by her wore off. And he had been wondering about the scale of those disappearances. Wondering if there was any chance for Michael not ending up as fodder to stop one of the rituals. The more Gerry looked into it, the more unlikely it seemed. 

  
  


Every time Gertrude had taken Michael with her on trips before, Gerry half-expected her to come back without the blond. Until now, he had been pleasantly surprised, but the dread always lingered. It didn’t help that she was eyeing Michael with something new in her eyes since the book disappeared, something calculating. Gerry knew that one day, it would happen. And he believed Michael deserved to know. To have the option of a choice. 

Gerry didn’t want to tell Michael, not really. He knew the alternative to working for the institute until it killed you. His mother told him, once, that she had killed his father after he foolishly made himself utterly useless to the Eye and quit the Institute. She did not further elaborate when Gerry asked, but she didn’t need to. He was brought up on finding things out that didn’t want to be found out. Within two weeks, he knew. 

He never told anyone. He had considered it, the first time he had seen the poor bastards working at the Institute, completely oblivious to their own situation, fed only what Gertrude wanted them to know. In a way, the lies were a mercy, Gerry guessed. But they were still lies keeping them complacent enough to never question any of the trips they ended up going on, never asking question when Gertrude asked them to come along. When one of them didn’t come back.

It was cruel, really. But Gerry had kept it to himself. And part of him still wanted to. It was for the greater good. He knew. But the fact that he could not even find precise information that’d suggest the rituals could work in general, that nobody knew if they were necessary in the first place, bothered him. Sacrificing just in case didn’t sit quite well with him. 

And, selfishly, losing Michael in general didn’t, either, much less with the sliver of a possibility that it would be in vain. So Gerry had to tell him. He had spent all his life helping people avoid such fates. The fact that he might have a personal reason for Michael didn’t make it any less right.

  
  


So he did. He had told Michael a fair amount already, but never the details. Now, he gave him the full story. Well, at least what he himself knew of it. And what he had found out about his father escaping it. Michael listened until the end, face uncharacteristically blank. It made Gerry nervous. He never had just dumped all of it unto somebody who basically knew nothing. Or just the basics. Silence fell over them when Gerry finished. 

Michael was still, taking it in. He was looking at his dining table without really seeing it. Adjusting his worldview to what Gerry just told him wasn’t too difficult. Michael had never had a whole lot of trust in his own perception. So Michael, as usual, gave Gerry’s words more weight than his own ideas of how things were. 

And then, Michael said a single word: “Okay.”

Gerry, who had been bracing himself for having to insist, was stunned into speechlessness. He stared at Michael with a sceptical expression, worried, or half expecting him to be joking, even if he really didn’t sound or look like it. 

Michael chuckled at that, but it sounded sad, “People used to look at me like that a lot.”

“I...Are you okay?”, Gerry had expected more of a fight and this level of resigned acceptance was disconcerting.

Michael nodded, “When I was a kid...I watched my friend disappear. I was there, playing with him, and this...thing. It took him. It…”, the familiar headache started to kick in as Michael tried to remember. The memories were still clear, still there. Except for that thing. All he remembered was the feeling of _wrong_. He rubbed at his temple, “I don’t...know. But my friend was gone, and I ran to tell the adults. And then…”

Michael sighed, “Then followed years of being told that that friend never existed. Of worried looks and tests and...well. It became...easier to just accept my memories must be wrong, my perception of the world must be off. Believing in others over myself, because they knew better. They were...saner.”

He looked up at Gerry, “But deep down...I...I just couldn’t accept it. I remember that day so clearly, probably the only day I remember this clearly from back then. Everything else is a blur. Maybe that should rather make me question it more but...well, there is a reason I decided to work for the Institute.”, he smiled, a little ashamed, as always when he dared thinking about this. 

It was foolish and childish and he should have long come to accept that it was him that was wrong, not the world. But Michael never could. And now Gerry had presented him with something that might actually explain all of it. Of course Michael was eager to believe it, no matter how unlikely of a picture of Gertrude it painted.

It was Gerry who became very still now. “The Distortion…”, he mumbled, more to himself.

“Sounds like it, if you’re telling the truth.”, Michael quickly sat up, “Not...not that I doubt you! It’s...it’s just...especially Gertrude-”

Gerry sighed. Of course, Michael would accept monsters and fears incarnate - or not quite incarnate - but would be filled with doubt at the fact that Gertrude might be anything but the nice old lady he believed her to be. Gertrude wasn’t even particularly nice to him. But that was just very much like Michael. Gerry rubbed his face.

“So, if we assume I’m right about Gertrude, too, what...what do you think about it?”, he tried.

Silence again. Michael’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke up again, “You think she will kill me?”

“Or rather send you to your death. Or worse. I don’t know, but I know she’s planning something.”

Michael was wringing his hands, “To...to stop that...thing from doing more damage?”

Gerry had been afraid the conversation would go there, “Yes. Well...she’s not sure. Nobody is.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not as readily. I...I just thought you deserved to know. To be able to...choose.”

“Between death - or worse - and quitting my job by going blind.”

“...Yes.”, Gerry sighed. He hadn’t had high hopes, knowing Michael well enough by now to be sure he would willingly walk into a trap if he believed even a single person could be saved.

“Gerry…”, Michael buried his face in his hands. Accepting all was easy enough. Trying to think about what it meant for him directly was something else entirely.

Michael had never been awfully fond of life, but he had pulled through, always hoping things might be better someday. Trying to make them better actively. It had never worked, but he had never stopped trying and, eventually, he had found himself at least marginally satisfied with what he had and able to go most days without falling into the darker places in his mind. 

He liked his job, some of his colleagues had been nice to him and the others at least tolerated him, using his eagerness to please to do less work themselves. Michael felt useful, and it gave him a sense of peace that made it easier to get through his days. 

He kept his distance from them, though, not wanting to upset the balance. It had never served him well to get too attached to people, anyways. Loneliness sometimes got suffocating, but Michael managed. There was always work to do. 

Michael had not wanted to die anymore, not actively. He didn’t think he’d be terribly upset if he did, but it wasn’t a gnawing constant desire. He was content. He was doing better.

Well, and in the last months? Michael had been glad he was alive, even, because Gerry had improved the basis he had managed to build for himself into what Michael conceived as happiness. He was happy. He got out more, he had someone to talk to without feeling terribly judged, who laughed so very beautifully because of something Michael had said or done. Michael was allowed to help, and he did not only feel useful, but appreciated. Gerry always looked genuinely happy when Michael came back from one of his work trips, and it made Michael feel warm.

Yes, Michael was happy, and he had become quite good at talking himself down when the doubts got overwhelming again. It was odd, going from the numb contentment of before to being periodically drowning in the darkest corners of his mind again. Gerry deserved better. That still rang true, and sometimes it got too much and Michael felt that pressing urge again, and hoped for death. 

But it rang hollow, because what he really, selfishly, wanted was to be with Gerry. And Gerry told him, again and again, that it wasn’t a selfish desire to have. And that it was mutual. And that he was worth it. And maybe, just maybe, Michael had allowed himself to believe, just a little. 

So, his default now was very much not wanting to die. And he would be bothered if he did, because he hadn’t had enough time with Gerry. He never would, he knew. 

He was wringing his hands furiously. It was too much. He did not want to die and now he had an actual reason to feel guilty about it. Because what he should be thinking was that of course he would let Gertrude put his worthless existence to good use. 

What he was thinking instead was that he did not want to die. As much as he was still terrified of Gerry abandoning him, and death would, he guessed, at least rid him of that possible nightmare, Michael had apparently come to the conclusion that suffering later would be worth it for the time he got.

Michael swallowed, "I...I'll have to think about it." 

Gerry released a breath, "Okay. I didn't...assume you would know right away, of course. Just...don't take too long. Or you might not be able to decide."

Michael nodded and sighed, "Let's leave it at this for the night.”, he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a weary sigh, “Let's just…"

Gerry put his hand out towards him, "Couch?"

Michael gave him a tired, grateful smile, "Yes." 

He let himself be pulled to the couch by Gerry. Gerry turned on the TV before pulling Michael close. Michael let Gerry wrap him in his arms, enjoying the familiar quickening of his own heartbeat at that. He would probably always be surprised about Gerry wanting him closer. But Michael had become better at simply leaning into the touch and enjoying it. He had become better at many things and he wondered how much there still was to get better at. He sighed, closing his eyes as Gerry ran his fingers through Michael’s hair. 

  
  


One of the things Michael hated about the decision he was presented with was that one of the options was very vague. Gertrude might send him to his death or worse, but what did worse even mean? He didn’t know and neither did Gerry; he just was sure that Michael would suffer, probably more than he could conceive of. So Michael filed that option as ‘death or inconceivable suffering’ and left it at that. He had worked through enough statements to have an idea or two, but it was pointless to get caught up in it. 

The other option was much less vague and easier to research and so he did, because he disliked making decisions without thoroughly thinking the options through first. Blindness was pretty straightforward to read up on, and Michael had little idea of how life without sight might be. It sounded like a huge inconvenience, but that was about it. That and lose memories of blind people with service dogs or white canes passing him on the streets. So yes, Michael wanted to know more, so at least he wouldn’t have to choose between two options he had little grasp on. It was calming. Research was what he did and it helped to approach the question like he approached his work; with a certain detachment. It made it easier.

  
  


Michael was dyeing Gerry’s hair a week after their conversation in his kitchen and he could see Gerry worrying at his lip in the mirror, while avoiding Michael’s eyes, but looking at him the moment Michael looked away to watch his fingers run through Gerry’s hair, careful to cover it evenly. 

Vaguely, he considered making a joke about the fact that, should Gerry be mentioned in future statements, it would be impossible to recognise him, since the standard description of a bad dye job did no longer apply. He decided against it, since Gerry seemed tense enough to not find that very funny, but he still couldn’t keep the grin quite off his face.

“What’s funny?”, Gerry asked, instantly. And then his cheeks flushed a light pink, since he had been trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been staring, and had just admitted to it.

Michael was starting to gently bring the comb through his hair and Gerry was impressed, again, by just how much work Michael put into helping him with dyeing. Gerry had always been too impatient to even use gloves, much less bother to actually use a comb. And when Michael had gotten all of that ready the first time he had agreed to help, Gerry had told him it wasn’t necessary and had been dreading the process. Gerry had had half a mind to tell him off then, but Michael looked cute when being stubborn and he had apparently done all the research and gotten all the things, so Gerry simply sighed and gave in. 

It did take much longer than if Gerry would have done it himself, but by the end he could barely keep himself from whining when Michael pulled his hands away again. He had no clue what exactly took so long, but Michael’s fingers in his hair, blunt nails against his scalp, running over the smaller hairs at the back of his neck, felt divine. Gerry felt like he was experiencing the purest version of bliss in those minutes - hours? - and he never wanted it to stop. 

The comb didn’t feel bad either and Michael always took extra care so it wouldn’t pull, pressing down gently with his hand on the roots when the comb did get stuck. Having the palm of Michael’s hand pressed against his head like that made Gerry feel strangely warm. It was comforting, all of it. Gerry usually melted in the process and Michael had to gently remind him to sit up straight, chuckling lightly.

But today he couldn’t relax, couldn’t really enjoy himself because Michael hadn’t said anything about their conversation a week ago and Gerry was getting stressed. Gertrude kept eyeing the blond with her calculating gaze and she was avoiding Gerry’s questions about what the next ritual to stop was and this week she was to be off to India with Michael’s colleague and Gerry couldn’t shake the idea that Michael would be next.

Michael stopped grinning, “Oh, nothing.”

Gerry pulled his eyebrows together, “What?”

Michael sighed, “I was just wondering how one could possibly recognise you in future statements if nobody mentions a bad dye job.”

Gerry blinks, confused, laughing, short but clear. Michael looked relieved at his laugh, and chuckled, “You know I’m right.”

“Yeah...yes, I know.”, Gerry grinned. The grin was wiped off his face when his thoughts caught up with him again.

Michael sighed. “Gerry.”, he finished combing Gerry’s hair and put the comb away, “What’s bothering you?”, Michael knew, of course. But he didn’t really know how to start the inevitable conversation.

Gerry sighed and watched Michael remove his gloves in the mirror. “Have you...have you thought about it?”

Michael sighed and walked around to wash his hands, “I’ve been...doing research into option two. Or rather...its aftermath.”

“Me too.”, Gerry decided to say into the silence that settled.

Michael whipped around and stared at him, wide-eyed, “I...I thought you didn’t work for the-”

“Oh, oh, no, Michael, no, I don’t.” Gerry got up too quickly and one of the strands Michael had tucked neatly behind his ear came loose and stuck to his temple. He didn’t care, though, because Michael looked like he was about to panic. “I’m not employed by the Institute.”, he took Michael’s hands and squeezed them, watching as the shock on his face faded into confusion.

“Then...why?”

Now Gerry looked slightly confused, “Well...so I know how to help you? I-In case you decide to go through with it, of course...”, he tried, careful with his word choice because he was sure Michael wouldn’t appreciate ‘take care of you’. To him, it would probably sound like he was going to be a burden to Gerry.

Now Michael was staring at him, utterly flabbergasted. Gerry frowned at him. Michael blushed and finally brushed the stuck strand of hair of of Gerry’s face, taking the towel draped around Gerry’s neck to wipe away the stain it left. Or trying to. It was a good way to avoid Gerry’s gaze so he took his time while trying to calm his heartbeat. 

"I...I just didn't assume…" he mumbled, still wiping at Gerry’s face but he didn't really know to finish that sentence because Gerry was still looking at him with those intense eyes and he was feeling silly even though it was perfectly logical to not assume Gerry would even have the time to help him. Michael’s best case scenario had been that Gerry might stick around and visit him, maybe, but certainly not actively help him.

"So you thought I'd suggest you blind yourself and then just...fuck off?", Gerry said, exasperation in his voice. Gerry grabbed Michael's wrist, to make him stop trying to get the dye off his face. 

Michael finally looked at him, somewhat guilty and still unsure, “I mean...why would you-”

“Why wouldn’t I?”, Gerry interrupted in such a stern manner it stunned Michael into silence. His eyes were daring him to challenge his words, challenging Michael to come up with any possible reason he could not instantly rebut. 

Michael sputtered, “I...I don’t know. I...I wouldn’t be able to help you much anymore, I...I’d just...be a bur-”

“Michael.”, Gerry took a deep breath and looked Michael in the eyes, “Michael, I do not try to spend as much time as I can with you because you’re extremely useful or just generally a great investment or whatever, but because I love you.”, his voice went soft at the end and he had to fight the urge to look away to hide the blush creeping into his face. He took Michael’s hands into his and squeezed them, “I know it’s hard to get that into your thick skull, but it’s a fact that, unless you tell me clear to my face to fuck off, you’re not gonna get rid of me so easily.”

Michael didn’t notice he had started crying until Gerry let go of one of his hands to gently brush the tears running down Michael’s face away. 

Michael sniffed, and then he suddenly wrapped his arms around Gerry und pulled him flush against his chest, “I’m sorry.”, he whispered and Gerry sighed, caressing Michael’s back.

“It’s okay, Michael.”, Gerry was about to add that he did not need to apologise, but he actually felt a little offended about Michael’s assumption this time, so instead he said, “You’ll get hair dye on your sweater.”

Michael seemed conflicted about whether he wanted to let him go or not, but having the strong dye smell so close to his nose was uncomfortable enough to let go in the end. 

He brushed the last of his tears away and looked at Gerry, “I love you, too.”, he mumbled, sniffing again, face turning scarlet at a surprising rate. Gerry smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Alright. I’ll clean up here, hm? Why don’t you go and make us some tea or something and then we’ll...share our research.”

Michael was nodding, when suddenly he remembered, “Oh, we forgot to look at the clock for the dye, Gerry!”

Gerry laughed, “I’ll manage. Now go, I’ll be with you in a moment.”, he smiled fondly and squeezed Michael’s hand, before turning to start cleaning up the bathroom. Michael watched him for a moment before leaving and going into the kitchen.

“Do you...want me to do it?”

"No.", Michael said, voice sounding more steady than he felt. Well, he was sure about the fact that he did not want Gerry to have to do it. Gerry already had enough to deal with.

Michael looked up from the knife in front of him, at Gerry. They were in one of the less frequented storage rooms in the archive and it was silent as they looked at each other. Michael had spent all day staring at Gerry. He was trying to burn him into his memory. But there wasn't enough time. Gertrude had mentioned a work trip soon. Michael didn't want to die. So here they were.

"Okay.", Gerry whispered after a moment of trying to find anything in Michael's eyes that might suggest he was lying. And maybe because he wanted to drink the soft grey in for a little longer. He swallowed. Gerry actually wasn't sure if he would have been able to do it if Michael had just said yes. 

His throat was tight when he continued, "I'll be right outside if...if you do need help."

Michael smiled his lovely, soft smile that always soothed, even now. Just for a moment, "Thank you."

It pained Gerry to hear those words. He didn't want to be thanked for this. 

"Alright then.", Gerry said after another moment of silence. He leaned down to press his lips to Michael's. Michael returned the kiss for a moment before pulling back.

"Let's get this over with.", he took in a shaky breath. The nausea was getting to critical levels and if they waited much longer he was afraid he might not be able to go through with this plan. 

Gerry nodded solemnly, pressing his lips to Michael's forehead before turning around and leaving the room. Michael had to fight a sob as he watched the door close behind him. He closed his eyes to collect himself, but that just made the tears that had stubbornly been held back overflow. He opened his eyes again and took the knife in his shaky hand. Breathe in. Out. He brought it to his face.

  
  


Michael lost consciousness before the ambulance arrived, but he remembered arms and a panicked, choked voice calling his name, talking to him. He couldn't hear the words through the pain, the rushing blood in his ears, _the pain_. It didn't matter though because soon he fell into blissful black, kinder than the angry one that had still let him hear Gerry sobbing, still let him feel the pain. It was nothingness and Michael embraced it.

  
  


Michael didn’t remember much from the hospital, but Gerry’s voice was never too far, his hand squeezing Michael’s when everything was just getting too much. It was disorienting, dizzying, all the sounds and sensations from everywhere. Michael couldn’t place them, head moving vaguely. All stayed black. There was something wrapped around his head, mull, from the feeling of it, covering his eyes. Or not. Michael had made sure there wouldn’t be much left to identify as such. He knew the world would be looking just as dark if the bandages wouldn’t be there. His head hurt, and he weeped.

  
  


It took some convincing from Gerry to keep Michael from being put away, but eventually he managed to get Michael from the hospital to his apartment to recover. Their apartment now, he guessed. Gerry had moved his stuff there in preparation, and while Michael had looked as happy about it as Gerry had felt, the fact that they had to rush the moving because of this had been something of a shadow over it. 

The drive had been overwhelming, the cab doing little to muffle the usual London noise around them. It probably did worse, considering Michael looked like he might throw up by the time they finally arrived at his apartment. Gerry paid, and helped Michael out of the car and into the house. When they entered the quiet apartment, Michael’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit. Gerry lead him to the bedroom and helped him into the bed. Michael sighed and mumbled a ‘thank you’ before rolling up on his side. 

“Mind if I join you?”, Gerry asked, brushing Michael’s hair out of his forehead. He was exhausted, but if Michael would rather be left alone he didn’t mind taking the couch.

Michael gave a thin smile and whispered, “This bed is big enough.”

Gerry huffed out a small laugh. Michael had disliked the small hospital bed.

"Very true.", Gerry mumbled and walked around to slip under the covers besides Michael. 

But he kept his distance. He didn't want to overwhelm Michael. He needed rest and as much as Gerry missed holding him in his arms properly, he didn't want to make things worse. So he stayed on his side for once, trying not to move as to not upset the covers. 

They lay like that for a while, listening to the other's breathing, waiting for it to become calm. Which didn't happen. 

"Can't sleep?", Gerry whispered.

Michael nodded vaguely. "Would you mind...coming closer?", he mumbled.

Gerry had expected for him to ask him to leave, so he was a little confused at first.

“Uh...s-sure.”, he eventually managed, shuffling closer.

Michael’s hand felt behind him, trying to reach Gerry. He missed him. Gerry took his hand and let Michael pull him closer. Michael pressed Gerry’s hand against his own chest and laced his fingers through Gerry’s, sighing as he could finally feel Gerry’s warm body against his back.

“Oh...okay.”, Gerry mumbled, sounding a little unsure.

Michael loosened his grip, “Y-You don’t have to...if you don’t want.”. He swallowed.

Gerry squeezed his hand again, “No! No...I just...I wasn’t sure if this wouldn’t be...too much.”

“No, it’s...I think it might help. To...to focus.”

Michael felt Gerry nod against his neck. He put his other hand over Gerry’s and settled comfortably against him. Gerry was caressing his hand with his thumb and Michael concentrated on that, letting the small motion lull him to sleep.

  
  


Michael slept a lot, especially in the beginning. Sleep was safe. Somewhat. At least when it was dreamless it was. Dreams always reminded him of what he had lost, all colour and light gone as soon as he was forced back into the real world. It gutted him every time and he struggled to not start the day crying in those instances.

Gerry woke him to eat or for his appointments. Michael hated the outside and as soon as he was back home he had to take a nap to calm down. It was just too much and he couldn’t place anything. He felt lost and if it weren’t for Gerry letting him clutch onto his arm when they were outside, Michael would probably just break down. He gave his best not to. He knew this should get better, with time and practice. But it was so much worse than what he could have imagined. He felt drowned, overwhelmed. The thought of returning to bed never left him while he had to be outside.

He learned his way around home, somewhat. It was a frustratingly slow process, everything so very familiar but he could never quite guess the distances right and walked into things when he didn't take the time to feel around first. And sometimes even when doing so. But he tried to push through. If he could at least be fine at home, Gerry would be able to run errands without worrying too much.

Gerry stayed at home most of the time. They had set up his laptop in the living room and that's where he spent his time when Michael was sleeping. When he was awake, Gerry tried to help out. But Michael was quite determined to manage on his own so he often ended up watching and stepping in when it looked like Michael might hurt himself. Or break something.

It hurt to watch. It hurt because Gerry couldn't forget opening that door and seeing Michael sat there, covered in his own blood and tears, and barely hanging in there. Gerry had been afraid of dragging him too far into the dangerous part of his life, afraid one day Michael would end up battered and bloody because of him. In a way, it had still come to happen. 

Gerry knew this was probably still preferable to whatever Gertrude had planned for him, but it was hard to hold on to that when Michael's face scrunched up in concentration just for him to still miss whatever he was trying to reach, letting out a frustrated noise. Again and again and again until his lower lip started to shake and Gerry gently suggested him taking a break. Sometimes he would. Most times he'd break down. Sometimes he would let Gerry comfort him. Sometimes he would push him away and stumble back to bed.

Gerry was stunned the first time Michael had told him to leave him be, but he got used to it. It became a staple in his life. Gerry would give him space, but it usually didn’t take long before the muffled sobs from the bedroom - Michael still did not like closing the door - had him fighting his own tears. Gerry wondered if this was how Michael felt most of the time. Utterly useless. Helpless. Wanting to fix, to help, desperately, but not knowing how exactly to achieve that. Gerry buried his face in his hands and cried silently.

  
  


The first time Gerry awoke to the muffled sobbing from outside the bedroom door, he panicked. He walked out to hear the noise coming from the bathroom. That just made him worry more. He knew Michael had been getting worse, the very slow improvement gnawing at him, feeding into his old insecurities and anxieties. He tried putting on a face, but Gerry knew him well enough to notice. He had been trying to come up with anything more he could do to help him. This was, in a way, his fault. And he was failing at helping.

The bathroom door was locked, and Gerry didn’t even consider calling out. He was barely keeping the panic at bay at what he might find on the other side. He broke down the lock and stepped inside. A strangled sob drew Gerry’s eyes to the corner, where they fell on Michael’s terrified face. He was pressed against the wall, hugging his knees, shoulders hunched and shaking. But he looked unharmed, besides his nails burying into his arms where he was clutching them. They had drawn blood, but it was nothing compared to what Gerry’s stressed mind had made him imagine. Gerry sighed a breath of relief. Michael flinched, ducking his head back behind his knees. Tears ran down his already wet face.

“Shit, I’m sorry...I…”, Gerry crouched down in front of Michael’s figure, “I didn’t want to scare you, I was...panicking. I…”, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Michael snapped out of his shock and was stuttering apologies, "I...I'm sorry I just...I didn't want to wake you. I…", he was digging his nails in further and Gerry reached out to pry off his fingers from his arm. Michael froze for a moment before starting to sob again.

"What...what is it, Michael?", there were too many options and Gerry wasn't sure he could help with any, but he would try. He gently ran his thumbs over the back of Michael's hands. 

"I...it's just been going so slow. And I've been keeping you from work with it and...and...I-I understand. If you leave, it's...it's okay. You don't...you don't have to deal with this.", he was choking on sobs again.

Gerry pulled him into his arms, and pressed him tightly against himself. It was the same old but made worse. Gerry had never managed to sooth that anxiety. He didn’t know if he would now.

"Michael, I know I don't have to, but i want to. I want to help, I want to stay with you and try to make things work, okay?", he said, carefully brushing the tears off Michael’s face, "Listen, I'm not going anywhere. I know it's been frustrating how slow the progress has been but its progress nonetheless. I want to try and help. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, Michael, and I’m not considering leaving.”, he tried, but the words sounded hollow to him by now. They never managed to really get through, not before, not now, Gerry knew. 

But what more could he say? What could he do to make Michael understand, but insist again and again? Gerry was feeling the sting of tears, and clutched Michael closer, caressing his back. Michael’s shaking subsided slowly, and the motion calmed Gerry down, too. He sighed, brushing all the stray curls stuck to Michael’s face away and looking at him. Old habits die hard, and despite the lack of warm grey meeting him, Gerry kept doing it. It felt like somebody stabbed him every time, memories of blood flooding the ones of bright eyes looking back at him in such instances.

Gerry swallowed, “Let’s get you back into bed, the cold floor can’t be comfortable, okay?”

Michael didn't look convinced, but nodded slowly and let Gerry lead him back to the bed. 

Gerry pulled him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "You can just wake me the next time. You don't need to be alone through this."

Michael shook his head, "I...I need to, sometimes. Otherwise I'd just wake you up to whine about the same things again and again." He tried a chuckle but his throat was still sore from crying, so he coughed instead. Gerry patted his back softly.

"I'd rather rebut that every time than...than wake up to you locked in the bathroom…", he clutched Michael closer, unable to shake the image of blood from his mind.

Michael took a moment to understand, "Oh...oh, I'm sorry, Gerry, I didnt...I didn’t think about that. I never...not...not really. And now...now i think I’ll be afraid of going too far without being able to see and...ah, I'm so sorry." Michael was returning the tight hug now, hand running over Gerry’s head in an attempt to calm himself more than Gerry, because somehow Michael just kept making things worse. He kept making life hard for Gerry, despite Gerry having enough on his plate already.

“Don’t.”, Gerry said.

Michael quickly pulled his hand away, assuming Gerry wanted him to stop touching him. Michael had been too panicked to really realise what he was doing. He had been trying to not touch Gerry, certain that it would just be unpleasant, awkward. Apparently he was right.

Gerry reached for his wrist, though, stopping Michael's retreat, "That's not what I was referring to. Stop thinking those thoughts."

"I...what?"

"I know that you're thinking you just keep making things worse. You don't. No, I wouldn't be better off without you. I'm here because I know that, okay? Please...try to believe me.", he had taken Michael's hand while talking and was squeezing it.

Michael swallowed the tears that were welling up again. He did want to try, desperately. He wanted things to work. He really did. But he couldn't ignore the fact that Gerry was tired and stressed because of him. He knew that.

"I'm sorry...I...but it's too much-"

"That's for me to decide, Michael."

"You're being stubborn!"

"So are you. I don't want to leave, Michael. And I don't believe you truly want me to, either. So just…", he sighed, "Just try to remember that, okay?". There was a moment of silence before Gerry added, "And uh...if you want...you could continue what you were doing, it felt...nice."

Michael was getting lost in thoughts again, and snapped back to reality, "Hm?"

"The way you were petting my hair....", Gerry mumbled, a blush spreading on his face. He turned away to hide it, despite it not being necessary.

Michael looked unsure, "I...are you sure? I...I haven't been...have been avoiding touching you since...it's probably quite awkward now…", he was whispering by the end, turning his head away to hide the blush creeping into his face.

Gerry raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "What, worried you'll accidentally grope me?"

Michael blushed brighter, and nervously started to play with the tips of his hair, "Ah, well...I could poke your eye…" 

"I'll close them."

Michael mumbled, "I...I'm just afraid it won't be...enjoyable."

"Try me."

Michael sighed, frustrated, "You say that like it's so easy."

Gerry kissed his hand, "I'm just saying I'd be willing to try, if you want. If you don’t, it’s fine, too.", he smiled, squeezing Michael’s hand gently. 

And he meant it. Gerry had been wondering about Michael usually keeping to himself, occasionally asking for Gerry to come closer or give him his hand, but never reaching out himself. It wasn’t terribly different from before, when Michael would ask permission before getting too close, but different enough for Gerry to notice. He had considered bringing it up, but had been afraid Michael would somehow twist it into a complaint and get even more upset.

Michael’s worry made sense, he guessed. And Gerry really didn’t mind it much, but if Michael was actually wanting to reach out to him, but his worries were keeping him from doing so, Gerry wanted him to know that he could at least try and see if those worries were warranted. Michael would often get caught up in his overthinking to the point where he just decided that it must be like that, trying was pointless. But most of the times, that ended up not being the case. Gerry always tried to remind him of that.

  
  


Michael was thinking about it, his face all scrunched up, and Gerry had to control his impulse to smooth the creases. The hand in Gerry’s hand twitched, and he loosened his grip. Michael’s fingers gently started tracing his arm, slowly, waiting for Gerry to tell him to stop. Gerry didn’t, and so Michael brought his second hand to follow his first.

Michael’s hands were uncertain and careful as they felt their way up to Gerry’s face, touch so light Gerry could barely feel it. In a way, it felt a lot like before. Maybe less deliberate, maybe occasionally one finger would end up stroking thin air or got stuck in Gerrys nose ring. Maybe his hands took longer breaks sometimes as he carefully mapped out what lay underneath them, trying to match it to the pictures he had in his mind. But it all still felt a lot like it used to and Gerry’s eyes fluttered close on their own as he enjoyed the soft fingers finding their way on his skin. Michael had always touched him in a way Gerry could only describe as the equivalent of looking at something while you drew it, trying to catch every detail, the right angle and shade. It made Gerrys chest swell and he had missed it. 

Michael's fingers were tracing his ears, warm fingers against the metal of the piercings there, when he suddenly stopped and asked, "Gerry?"

Gerry opened his eyes again, "Hm?"

"Ah, you...you just were so...silent, I wasn't sure...is-is this okay? You...you tell me if you want me to stop, yes?"

"What? Oh no, I was...I was just enjoying...I...", a rare sheepish smile pulled on his lips, "It feels...nice."

"Are you sure? I think I nearly pulled one of the piercings out earlier…", Michael sounded genuinely worried.

Gerry chuckled, "It wasn’t that bad. And yes, I really...in a way it's not so different from how you used to...before. I always...liked that.", he mumbled, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"You did?", and now Michael sounded genuinely surprised.

Gerry frowned, "Yes? I..it’s like...you've always seemed to touch me for touching me? I don't know how to explain but...nobody ever...did that. Usually...well, usually it was always a means to an end, I guess.", His voice was getting lower and lower and Gerry was barely intelligible when he said, "I like your way..."

Michael brought the back of his hand to rest against Gerry’s cheek because Gerry sounded like he was blushing and he wanted to feel it. And he did. It only made his own face heat up. 

"Oh...I...never knew. I had been wondering why you didn't tell me to hurry along or something...I...I thought it was a question of time before you lost your patience.", Michael mumbled.

"No, not at all. I enjoyed it a lot. I enjoy this. I'm sorry I never told you...I wasn't aware it was weird.", Gerry nervously ran his hand through his hair again. This was way out of his comfort zone. Words were hard and he was never quite sure whether he was choosing the right ones.

"I'm not saying it is, I just never...had that reaction.", Michael smiled a little sadly. 

Gerry wanted to wipe that broken smile off his face. Michael’s thumb was travelling down Gerry’s face again and when it passed his lips, Gerry poked out the tip of his tongue to brush against it. It has the desired effect of wiping away that sad smile. To replace it came a surprised expression. 

"Gerry!", Michael giggled after a moment of confusion, making Gerry’s heart flutter.

Gerry grinned, "Mhm, I'm sorry, couldn't resist."

Michael shook his head, but he was grinning, "You're impossible.”, he laughed, “Can I kiss you?.", he grinned, bringing his fingers back to Gerry’s face.

"You're very welcome to do that.", Gerry mumbled, voice pleasantly low. 

When Michael finally leaned in he hit half of Gerry’s lips with his own, but Gerry was quick to amend it by turning his head slightly to the left and kissing him back. It was tentative at first, shy, as always with Michael. But eventually Michael got the courage up to deepen it, detangling himself from their hug to get a better angle and Gerry melted into it, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck. 

He should probably tell Michael that his kisses were just as enjoyable as his touches. It always seemed like he was kissing Gerry for the first time, shy at first but thorough, tongue seemingly trying to map out his mouth in all detail, never getting enough. It was breathtaking - both literally and metaphorically - and Gerry tilted his head to grant better access and soon he was lying on his back and Michaels fingers had made their way down his neck, following the line of his throat, splaying out over his shoulders, his chest, where they didn't have to fear poking any eyes; at least none that would be bothered by it. His touch was still careful and light, more of a teasing of touch through the fabric of Gerry’s shirt.

Michael pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, but stayed close, and Gerry watched him, appreciating the flush that was calming down as Michael took in some deep breaths. He missed the big eyes that used to meet his gaze in such instances. To distract himself from the loss, Gerry started to twirl one of the curls falling next to his face around his finger. 

Michael had managed to nearly aim his new eyes at Gerry’s. They were blank. Would always be. It had taken some getting used to, for both of them. Michael found the prosthesis quite uncomfortable in the beginning, seemingly unable to stop trying to blink away the foreign feeling. Gerry kept being reminded of the victims of the stranger when he accidentally looked at them, blank and human enough to fool you at a first glance. No warmth. The colour wasn’t even the right shade of gray. And of course, Gerry always saw the ruined, bloody mess left of the original, beautiful eyes whenever he looked at them. Apparently he couldn’t shake the image. So Gerry looked at his lips instead.

“Everything alright?”, Gerry whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind Michael’s ear.

“I...yes. W-With you?”, Michael smiled nervously, drawing small circles on Gerry’s chest with his thumbs.

“Yeah.”, he ran his fingers through Michael’s hair, down his face, drinking in his smile. It had become rare lately.

Michael leaned into the touch, sighing. He sounded relieved and Gerry smiled, reaching out with his other hand to pull him closer, so Michael’s head was resting on Gerry’s chest. Gerry ran his hand through Michael’s hair and down his back.

“See? Sometimes you really need to just give it a chance…”, he mumbled.

Michael chuckled lightly, running his hand down Gerry’s arm. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain…”, he mumbled.

Gerry sighed, squeezing Michael gently, “That’s not true. You just forget sometimes. It’s...it’s okay. I’ll remind you.”

Michael buried his face in Gerry’s chest and sighed, “I love you.”

Gerry bent down to press a kiss to Michael’s head, “I love you, too.”

They stayed like that for a while, Gerry running his hand through Michael’s hair, Michael eventually settling to play with his free hand. Gerry closed his eyes and smiled. He had missed this. 

  
  


It wasn't the last time Gerry woke up to sobbing from the bathroom, not by a long shot. Unfortunately, those nights rarely ended like the first. Gerry considered himself lucky when he managed to even get Michael back to bed at all.

Michael was trying. He was trying to stay afloat, to focus on the small successes rather than letting himself be dragged down by the failures. Michael had never been very good at that. At nights, he usually lost the fight, even if he somehow managed to make it through the day. It was rare that he did without breaking down.

Gerry tried to be there for him, tried to help him. Distract him, talk to him, hold him. He reminded him of the progress he was making, that it would get better. It wasn’t really getting through to Michael, though.

  
  


There were, of course, also good days. Sometimes it was days that started with Michael successfully making breakfast without knocking anything over or getting so frustrated by how long everything took him he gave up halfway. Sometimes it was his rehab appointment going particularly well. The outside not overwhelming him as much. Sometimes it was Gerry coming back from a walk to clear his head - because the last thing he needed was losing patience and accidentally snapping at Michael - and finding Michael basking in the sun on the couch, face angled towards the window through which the sun was falling into the room. 

It made his hair look like gold, smoothed his outline, softened it, so that he looked somewhat unreal. Like a dream. Or an angel. Gerry didn’t know if he wanted to groan and roll his eyes, or blush when he thought that. He did neither, carefully approaching the couch instead.

Michael turned his head slightly in his direction, “I made hot chocolate.”, he smiled softly.

Gerry pressed his lips to his temple, “Feeling better, then?”, he came around to sit next to Michael, taking one of the mugs on the coffee table.

Michael blushed a little, “Y-Yes...I’m...I’m sorry...for earlier.”

Gerry sighed, and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer, “Alright. I think I shouldn’t have insisted on helping after you told me off the first couple times. I’m sorry, too.”

Michael looked like he was about to fight Gerry on that, but bit his lip and nodded carefully instead, “I...I tried the chocolate and it tasted fine.”, and he was smiling, and Gerry could hear that Michael was barely containing his excitement. 

Gerry smiled and pressed a kiss on Michael’s hair, before taking a sip from the mug in his hand. Michael was clearly anxiously listening to his reaction, eyebrows drawn together in concentration as not to miss any sound that might betray what Gerry thought of the drink. Gerry had to contain his chuckle. It was endearing to see Michael like this, and he brought his thumb to smooth the crease between Michael’s brows.

“No need to look so worried, it’s really good.”

"Really?", Michael said, and his face was bright and happy and the sight made Gerry grin.

He traced one pale eyebrow tenderly, "Didn’t you even say so yourself, love?"

Michael’s heart skipped a beat, as always when Gerry called him that, and his cheeks started burning, "Well I...I liked it but that doesn't mean you would."

Gerry chuckled, caressing Michael’s red cheek gently, "But I do. Thank you."

Michael turned his head, pressing his lips to the palm of Gerry’s hand. It was Gerry’s turn to blush. It was rare for Michael to show affection like this without asking permission first. Not that it never happened, but it was still the exception, surprising Gerry every time. He continued to drink his hot chocolate, hoping Michael wouldn’t notice his flusteredness.

Michael took the hand he had just kissed, lacing their fingers together, before reaching for his own mug. He went a bit too far at first, getting chocolate on his fingertips and sighed, licking them clean before trying again, this time more carefully. He managed the second time, bringing the mug to his lips and sipping contently. Gerry squeezed his hand lightly. Michael hummed and smiled. 

  
  


They cherished such moments. They cherished them dearly as they grew rarer with Michael slipping further into despair. It was those moments that Michael tried to think of when his thoughts went dark again. Such moments, days, when things work out fine, not even perfect, but _fine,_ were what he kept trying to clutch onto. He did try, desperately, tried to listen to Gerry reminding him. Tried to really listen and believe his words. Michael failed.

He started leaving the bed less and less. He felt useless. He knew that would happen, of course, but it hit him so much harder. The fact that he was somehow failing at even trying to hang on to the positives was just making him feel worse.

And he also felt so disgustingly sorry for himself. He missed seeing. He missed the light and colours, missed watching the wind play with the leaves in the tree in front of his bedroom window when he couldn’t sleep. He missed seeing Gerry. He missed turning around in the morning and being met with fond brown eyes, liquid honey in the sunlight. He was afraid his memories would fade eventually, colours turning dull. Michael dreaded waking up and no longer remembering the shade of Gerry’s eyes. Sometimes, these realisations made it so very hard to breathe, and choked, physically, on the hollow feeling inside of him.

It was getting too much, Michael knew. Gerry kept stubbornly denying it, saying it was fine, saying he was trying to find some way to help. But there was an edge of panic in his voice and Michael didn't want him to sound like that. He wanted Gerry to be happy. He was dragging him down into despair with him, and was dreading the day Gerry would sound as resigned as he himself did when he spoke now. It was a matter of time. 

Gerry kept saying it was fine. He was fine. And Michael really wanted to believe him. He didn't want Gerry to go. But Gerry cried silently when he believed Michael to be asleep, and Michael's heart broke.

  
  


It was Gerry who suggested therapy. He was feeling overwhelmed with everything. His nightmares were getting worse. He was frustrated and irritable and running out of ideas.

Michael was slipping further into whatever hellscape his mind was becoming - probably had always been - and Gerry could do nothing but watch because even when he managed to help him out, it was only for a little bit. Michael was starting to shut down, clearly trying to keep Gerry away so he wouldn’t be a burden anymore. And some days, Gerry found it hard not to give in. His head hurt. He needed a break.

But so did Michael. Gerry didn’t want to give up. Giving up had never been in his nature. He wanted to help. This wasn’t working and Gerry wanted it to work so badly, was determined to make it work. If he was running out of ideas, he needed to get help. 

Michael did not like the suggestion for a variety of reasons. He hadn’t made many good experiences in the years he had spent being sent from professional to professional after his friend disappeared. He didn’t want Gerry to go through the same, especially not when it was Michael who had gotten him to the point of even considering it. Gerry had clearly accepted, by now, that Michael was dragging him down. Now Gerry just needed to accept the fact that he needed to leave him to keep his wits about.

Michael told him that. He said all of that without crying, voice clear and resigned and it broke Gerry’s heart because it sounded like he had been thinking and rethinking that speech a lot lately. He pulled Michael into a hug.

“Michael, I haven’t been at my best in a very long time. Completely unrelated to you.”, Gerry mumbled, because it was true. Michael knew. Gerry continued, “I want to try this. You don’t have to, it’s okay. But if there’s a way to improve the situation? I want to try it. I love you. I don’t...I really don’t want to leave, Michael.”, he sighed, running a hand down Michael’s back, “Yes, even now not. We knew this would be difficult, you did, and you still went through with it. You deserve me at least trying, okay? You deserve to be happy. And I’m not yet convinced that I have done everything I can to make that happen.”

When Gerry looked up to see Michael’s reaction, Michael was crying. Gerry carefully cradled his face, pulling Michael down a little so he could kiss away the tears. He leaned his forehead against Michael’s, forcing himself to look into those eyes that were all wrong, but they were Michael’s now.

“Let me try making things work, okay?”, he whispered.

Michael looked like he might cry again, but nodded slowly, deliberately. Gerry leaned in to press their lips together in a short, chaste kiss, before he released Michael.

“I’ll make us some tea, okay?”, Gerry asked, taking Michael’s hand into his own.

Michael nodded again, and let Gerry pull him along into the kitchen.

  
  


Gerry didn't force Michael into therapy, but did ask him to come along to his session. Partly because his therapist had suggested that over the phone when Gerry explained his situation and partly because Gerry was thoroughly terrified himself. He was a nervous wreck the whole week leading up to the appointment and felt a sudden urge to hold Michael just a little tighter if this was how the blond felt about most things most of the time. It made Gerry nauseous. Maybe this was why Michael ate so little. It was easier to not freak out about the appointment when thinking about Michael instead. 

Michael agreed to come with him, but didn’t look too happy about it, so Gerry couldn’t fall asleep the night before the appointment.

"Are you...still coming tomorrow?", Gerry whispered into the dark. It was way past midnight, but he knew Michael wasn’t sleeping either. Michael, while spending most of his time curled up in bed, didn’t sleep much anymore.

Michael's hand searched for Gerry’s for a moment, and squeezed it when he found it, "Are you nervous?"

"Terrified.", Gerry answered in a small voice. 

Michael’s heart clenched at the sound. He bit his lip, "It's going to be okay. I...I'm coming with you."

Gerry squeezed his hand back, "Thank you."

“Come here.”, Michael tugged at Gerry’s hand. Gerry rolled over, resting his head on Michael’s chest. Michael brought his hand to comb through Gerry’s hair, running his nails gently along Gerry’s scalp. He felt Gerry’s tense form relax against him. A thin smile spread on Michael’s face. Some things hadn’t changed. It was comforting.

  
  


Michael did not know who was supporting whom when they sat clutching the other's hand at the therapist. Gerry had woken up with a panic attack - which was common enough - but it had taken much longer to work him down from it than usual and then it had been up to Michael to convince him to still go to the appointment. 

It was easier to feel like Gerry should do that after Michael nearly panicked about Gerry’s panic attack in the morning and so the fact that Michael would really rather be anywhere else had only caught up with him when they entered the building. That was about the time Gerry started clutching his hand. He had to let go for the paperwork but Michael could feel his reluctance and placed the hand on the small of his back while Gerry got to work. He traced some patterns on his back to pass time, listening to the comings and goings of his surroundings. 

As soon as they went inside and finished introductions Gerry clutched his hand again and Michael squeezed it back because even though he couldn't see the room it was still giving him flashbacks. It felt the same like those rooms he had spent so long trying to defend his story, what he had experienced, until finally resigning to accept that he was wrong while inside he could never fully accept that. It was making his heartbeat pick up.

Michael listened as Gerry and the therapist - he hadn't caught her name - spoke in calm voices. It was all very familiar, her tone soft and friendly, the way they tend to start of before they lost their patience. Or that's how it had gone for Michael. He hoped it wouldn't be the same for Gerry. Gerry struggled to talk and Michael was fairly sure he drank about double the water he usually drank in two days in the first 10 minutes. He was tense and fidgety and Michael's heart ached because he could do little more than trace patterns on the back of Gerry’s hand in hope to calm him. 

Gerry was drained when they arrived back home. He mumbled something about sitting down for a moment, but when Michael came back from the bathroom a moment later, Gerry was snoring lightly on the couch. He sighed, vaguely aware that it was probably close to lunch time and that Gerry had skipped breakfast already. For a moment, he hesitated. The kitchen was always a frustrating place to navigate, despite him having learned the places or everything by now. He sighed, making his way there, and getting to work on fixing them something for lunch, trying his hardest to not be too loud and taking his time, so Gerry could rest for a little.

Gerry woke up to the smell of eggs and it took a lot of blinking for him to catch up with where he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so deeply. Yawning, he got up from the couch to make his way into the kitchen. 

Michael turned his head slightly, “Oh, did I wake you?”

Gerry came to stand next to him, “Dunno. But I woke up to the smell of food, so I really can’t complain.”, he chuckled, pressing a kiss to Michael’s jaw.

Michael smiled, "I think I made quite the mess as always but...it’s edible."

"Don’t worry about it, I'll clean up after.", Gerry laughed a little, "I'm sure it tastes better than anything I make. I'll set the table."

Michael chuckled, "You've gotten better."

"Still got a long way to go.", Gerry hummed as he set the table.

They ate in comfortable silence, and Michael listened to Gerry clean up after. He was humming some song, softly. Michael smiled. He hadn’t heard Gerry’s off-key singing in a very long time.

  
  


Talking got easier with time for Gerry. He would still bring Michael along occasionally, but he did manage without him, too. It was more of an incentive to make Michael reconsider his decision to not make an appointment for himself. It took a couple more sessions, but in the end Gerry could convince him to try.

Gerry was personally surprised at how quickly he felt better himself. Though he had been the one to suggest it, Michael wasn’t the only one sceptical. He had, of course, wondered how to talk around the whole paranormal aspects of his life. But he had managed. Even after the first few sessions, Gerry felt somewhat...lighter. 

Michael noticed, of course. And he started feeling bad because Gerry was trying to hard but he was still struggling to get out of bed, even with Gerry’s newfound energy to try to convince him. That had probably been what ended up making Michael agree to make an appointment for himself. He was still nervous and somewhat apprehensive, but Gerry shouldn’t have to try to make things work on his own. So he went.

  
  


Gerry found Michael crying many a time after his appointments. When he asked, Michael assured him that things were going fine, that it was just a lot to process. He let Gerry hold him through it, would sometimes mutter what it was that had struck him like this. But in general, Michael felt a little better too. He was getting new tips to deal with his anxious panics and being able to explain those to somebody who wasn't affected by them was surprisingly freeing. It was slowly getting easier to not get swallowed by his hopelessness. 

They slowly found a balance again. Michael began feeling a lot better about dealing with bad days and not falling into utter despair because he couldn’t do something as quickly or good as he wanted to. Or at all. He tried not to let himself get dragged down when suddenly it hit him that he would never see again.

"Thank you for taking me with you. In the beginning", Michael mumbled on one occasion when Gerry picked him up from his appointment and they were walking home. 

They had stopped for ice cream and had settled on a park bench to eat. Michael had been fighting the urge to apologise for being an inconvenience, since he knew Gerry was currently busy trying to hunt down some artifact and probably could have done without the interruption of picking Michael up. But he was trying to apologise less. So he decided to express his gratitude instead.

"No problem. I'm...I'm glad it worked out.", Gerry said and he sounded happy, making Michael smile. 

“Me, too.”

“You tell me if this gets too much, yes?”, Gerry mumbled after a moment of silently eating his ice. He made a vague gesture towards the park, that wasn’t as busy as it could be, but certainly not as empty as he would have liked. Then he remembered that gesture was quite useless, and blushed, adding, “I mean the noise...the park.”

Michael nodded, biting into the waffle cone in his hand, “I’m trying to get better with it. It...it’s okay, right now.”

Gerry nodded, “Okay. If that changes, you tell me and we go, okay? It’s no problem.”

Michael nodded, “Okay. I hope I manage though, I’d like to hold your hand on the way.”, he whispered, cheeks turning a light pink.

Gerry laughed fondly, “Mhm, I guess that’s the inconvenience of the cane. But it helps, doesn’t it?”

Michael nodded, twisting the end of his cane absentmindedly where it leaned against his leg. He was starting to get the hang of it and it, indeed, made it easier to find his way. He was trying to work up the courage to try and maybe take a little walk on his own, soon.

Gerry smiled, “Then we’ll just have to make do.”. He leaned in to plant a kiss on Michael’s still blushing cheek, enjoying the warmth underneath his lips.

Michael smiled and nodded. He was feeling a little more hopeful that they might, indeed, make do.

  
  


There were still bad days and nightmares and a lot of crying, and sometimes it seemed to hit harder, because it tended to follow some time where they were doing good. It always felt like a punch in the gut, for the both of them.

There was that morning when Gerry awoke to the sound of choking sobs in the bathroom for the first time in a month, and when he realised what it was it felt like his world was falling apart, shattering into pieces the way his heart did hearing those noises. He walked into the bathroom - Michael never locked it after Gerry had broken the door down the first time - to find Michael curled up in the same corner, impossibly small, desperately trying to breathe through the sobs while st the same time trying to keep it down. It was a painfully familiar view and Gerry kneeled down in front of him and carefully reached out to loosen the grip Michael had on his own arms, nails buried into flesh painfully. This time they hadn't drawn blood yet. 

Gerry kept the hands in his because he knew Michael would otherwise find other places to leave half moon shaped marks in. Hands, legs, face, neck. They've had most by now. He waited then, until Michael dared to look up from his coiled up position. When he did, something new had joined the usual expression of pain and despair on it. Disappointment.

Gerry understood that look better when his nightmares started getting worse again after not bother him for weeks. One night he awoke from a particularly bad one and his jaw hurt from how strongly he had clenched his teeth. Apparently he hadn’t screamed, though, since Michael was still fast asleep beside him. Probably a good sign. He seemed to be actually sleeping again. 

Gerry’s mouth felt dry and he carefully got out of bed to get himself a glass of water. His heart was still racing from the dream as he watched the waterstream. They were more vivid, sometimes. Memories he had long buried and thought forgotten coming back as he was spending more and more time talking about his mother. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He brushed the tears away that were welling up again before taking his glass and settling down on the couch. 

He stared at the familiar surroundings, letting the peaceful atmosphere calm him down, as he drank. It was still a while until sunrise and it was dark and quiet. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

Gerry’s heart had calmed down by the time he heard tentative steps approach and turned to look behind him. Michael was standing at the corner of the hall, facing the living room, one hand against the wall. His hair was a wild mess around his head - Gerry should really try to braid it one of these evenings, maybe it’d help - and even without the possibility of his new eyes becoming bleary, it was blatantly obvious that he wasn't quite awake. He looks uncertain about whether he should approach or not.

"Michael...I didn't want to wake you.", Gerry said gently and even though Michael couldn't see him putting out his hand towards him in an inviting gesture, Michael seemed to understand.

He detached himself from the wall and carefully - he tended to have more problems with stumbling or misjudging distance in the early morning, which Gerry clearly remembered already being the case when he could still see - made his way towards the couch, holding out his hand vaguely as to not accidentally run into it.

"Taking your hand.", Gerry mumbled and reached out to take Michael’s hand when he was close enough, manoeuvring the blond around the couch and into a sitting position next to him. Michael squeezed the hand lightly, leaning his head on Gerry’s shoulder.

"Nightmares?", he whispered.

"Yeah.”, Gerry sighed, “Since I managed to not wake you for once I thought I might try to keep it that way." He chuckled, bringing his free hand up to brush some of the strands of hair out of Michael's face.

"I feel like every time we don't want to wake the other up, it's a guarantee well wake the other up.", Michael smiled.

Gerry chuckled, "True."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sometimes...sometimes we unearth long repressed memories during those sessions and they...linger."

"Oh ...your mother?"

“Yeah.”, Gerry mumbled, leaning his head against Michael’s. He didn’t feel like going into details. Michael didn’t need to deal with Mary, not if Gerry could help it. He had enough nightmare material of his own, Gerry knew.

There was a moment of silence before Michael spoke again, “Do you want to take a walk?”

Gerry looked out of the window. The sky was slowly turning lighter, but it was still late. It would be quiet, and probably a bit cold. Maybe it’d ease the headache that still lingered.

“You sure you don’t want to try and sleep, rather?”, he asked, because Michael still sounded somewhat sluggish.

Michael shook his head, “I don’t...I can’t really fall asleep once awake anyways. And it’s probably still quiet outside.”

Gerry nodded and got up, helping Michael up and back to the bedroom to get ready. He wasn’t one to deny Michael a walk in the rare moments Michael asked for one. He was getting better with it, and by now he was starting to take short ones by himself, sometimes even running some smaller errands he felt comfortable enough doing. He still got overwhelmed when it was very busy, but even that was starting to calm down. Gerry was incredibly proud.

  
  


With things going better Gerry also found the energy to properly dedicate himself to destroying Leitners and the likes again. He never really stopped looking for them, had done research throughout, but he had been nervous about leaving Michael alone at home for too long. And he simply had been beyond tired himself. As those things started to become more manageable, he felt the itch to finally properly get back to it. 

Michael encouraged him - albeit always telling him to be careful about it - and helped him as much as he could. He hadn’t worked all those years in research for nothing and Gerry valued his ideas. Of course, Michael was also still somebody who enjoyed planning everything through, so he often ended up revealing a blind spot of Gerry’s just by asking some question Gerry would never have thought to be relevant. It was fun, and Gerry found himself wishing he had let Michael help him more when he asked to do so after burning the skin book. Something told him he might have been able to avoid one bruise or another that way.

Michael felt more at ease when Gerry left to actually follow the leads to the books when he knew what exactly Gerry was dealing with. Sure, it also was unnerving to know the actual danger of whatever it was Gerry had to face, but Michael at least knew he was as prepared as he could be. It didn’t really help with him barely sleeping with worry, but it did prevent him from spiralling into a panic attack every time. Gerry usually sent him messages while on his hunts to help with that. It was a lot like before, in that way. Michael simply tried to distract. He managed fine, most of the time.

  
  


That didn’t mean that Michael didn’t always nearly run to the door when he heard the keys turning, signalling Gerry was back. He came back unharmed most of the times. The exceptions made it hard for Michael to not shot up and go to meet him. Not that he could do much, but it was simply impossible not to go and check if Gerry was okay.

And so Gerry got used to finding Michael right behind the door when he opened it. He got used to it. Michael would ask him if everything went well, if he was hurt, and repeat those questions in all their shades until he was satisfied. Sometimes Gerry really just wanted to rest for a bit, and gently asked him to wait until later, that he was fine, but tired and needed a moment. 

Michael clearly struggled not to panic at that request, probably taking it as proof that Gerry found him annoying or something. But whatever Michael was doing in therapy seemed to be working, as he usually managed to avoid having a full blown panic attack. Even in his exhausted state, Gerry was quite impressed. Michael gave him some space and Gerry was grateful for it.

  
  


More often than not, Gerry just wanted a hot bath when he came home. Since Michael was always hovering around close when he got home, Gerry invited him to join him, once, more as a joke, really, voice teasing. Michael had blushed beautifully, and devolved into a stuttering mess, so very much like he used to, it was nearly painful to witness. And then Gerry actually really wanted him to join.

It took some convincing, but eventually Gerry was sitting in the bathtub with Michael’s fingers massaging shampoo into his scalp, and Gerry decided this was the best idea he ever had. It felt a lot like when Michael dyed his hair - which he didn’t do anymore, and Gerry probably missed more than he cared to admit - but better. Better because it didn’t smell of dye and they were sitting in hot water, which just made for extra relaxation. Gerry was melting like butter.

“You know, if you lean so close I can’t actually wash your hair properly, Gerry…”, Michael said when Gerry was basically just laying against his chest, amused. 

Gerry had been leaning back slowly as the tension bled out of his body, sighing blissfully. Michael had backed away as much as he could as to keep enough space between them to shampoo Gerry’s hair, but by now Gerry’s head was basically resting against Michael’s chest and, as nice as that felt, it made it impossible to properly wash Gerry’s hair.

Sighing, Gerry forced himself to sit up a bit again. Michael didn’t need to see to know that he was very displeased about having to do that and Michael chuckled, bringing his fingers back to the hair roots at the back of Gerry’s neck, where he had left off before Gerry decided to use him as a pillow. 

Gerry hummed blissfully, appeased, “I still don’t understand how you...do that…”, he mumbled, voice soft.

Michael smiled fondly, “I don’t think it’s anything I do, it’s more that you simply like your hair being touched.”

Gerry considered it, “But I never…”, he furrowed his brows, “Ah...nevermind.”

“What?”, Michael asked, letting his fingers comb through the wet strands. He wished he could see them. Gerry’s hair had always been quite hypnotising to watch as it ran through Michael’s fingers.

Gerry sighed again, and it sounded so close to a purr Michael had to grin.

“I wanted to say that I can’t really remember noticing that before you, but then I realised that nobody really...touched my head like that. Before you. So you’re probably still right.”, Gerry mumbled.

Michael raised an eyebrow, “Nobody?”

“Well...not like _this_. Of course there were people putting their hands in my hair but not like this. Like, usually it’s just...like…”, Gerry was clearly having trouble to express what he meant. He sighed, frustrated. Words were still really not his thing, “I don’t know. This feels different.”

“Like with touching in general?”, Michael asked, running his hands down Gerry’s neck and shoulder and remembering the conversation they had had what felt like a lifetime ago. Michael still remembered it quite vividly, though. 

Gerry remembered, too, and blushed lightly as the memory. “Uh...I guess, yeah...yes, that works.”

Michael bent down to press a kiss to Gerry’s shoulder, “Well, I’m glad you enjoy it.”, he chuckled, “But do try to let me finish here without falling asleep on me, okay?”

Gerry huffed, but it was an amused sound, and straightened up again. Michael got back to work on his hair, smiling.

  
  


As much as Michael enjoyed washing Gerry’s hair after one of his jobs, his favourite way to spend his time with Gerry was sat on the couch, Gerry sketching and Michael listening to the pencil scratching against the paper. It was oddly calming and peaceful, and they would often sit for hours in silence like that, Michael threading his fingers through Gerry’s hair occasionally, Gerry taking a break to kiss Michael’s cheek. 

Michael never felt as relaxed as he did then, which was why he jumped, when on one of those occasions, he heard a thud from the kitchen after Gerry had just gone there to fix them something to drink. When Michael arrived in the kitchen, he heard some shuffling and a groan.

“Gerry?”, Michael called, voice high with panic, as he approached the noise, reaching out to help. 

Gerry took his outstretched arm leaning into Michael as his head continued to pound, “I’m...I’m okay, can...need to sit.”, he managed to grit out through his clenched teeth.

“What happened? Did you black out?”, Michael sounded worried, as he helped Gerry towards the dining table. 

Gerry sat down and closed his eyes, holding his head. The room was still spinning. Michael was going into his rant, but Gerry couldn’t hear him very well. He heard Michael pour a glass of water and put it down in front of Gerry. He drank it eagerly. The room was stopping to spin, slowly, and Gerry could hear what Michael was saying. Not that it was necessary. He could probably recite it. They had had this conversation on quite a few occasions in the past weeks. Ever since Michael somehow picked up on his headaches.

"Gerry, I swear to god I will drag you to the hospital myself if you refuse to see a doctor about this. This was the second time you fainted. Your headaches haven't been getting any better.”, Michael sounded the closest he probably could to sounding genuinely mad, “Gerry, one day this is going to make a job go bad and you know it. There's only so much preparation can do when you aren't in any state to be running through alleyways in the night!"

Gerry’s head was still pounding fully and he wished Michael would turn it down. Not that he was loud, Michael really never was, but it was too much for Gerry in his current state. Not that Michael wouldn’t have the right to get loud, if he were the kind to. Gerry had procrastinated getting this stupid headaches checked that had been bothering him for a long time but were starting to become actually intolerable. Michael was right in calling him foolish for that, of course. 

But Gerry didn't like the idea of having to stop his work because his head decided to hurt. He usually just worked through it. That's what people did, right? And oh, he hated hospitals. He hasn't set foot in a doctor’s office for himself probably ever. He did go with Michael to his appointments when Michael asked him to or was simply having a really bad day anxiety wise. But for himself? It just felt wrong. 

Michael was pacing and saying the same things again and again and Gerry knew he was right and he was getting dizzy looking at the pacing man. He groaned, raising his arms in defeat, "Okay, okay.", he said and cringed because he'd spoken too loud and it made his brain vibrate.

Michael froze, head snapping around towards Gerry’s voice. As usual his eyes landed somewhere above Gerry’s eyes. "What? What do you mean ‘okay’? This isn't okay, I can't believe-"

"I'm calling and making an appointment. Right now.", Gerry said and fished his phone out of his back pocket and dialed the number for Michael’s - and in theory his - doctor. He put the call on loudspeaker so Michael could be sure he wasn't kidding. 

Michael held his breath throughout the whole call, listening attentively. He had been so very close to making this call himself the last time Gerry passed out. But he knew that it was pointless if Gerry didn't want to go. Michael could try, but he was fairly sure he could not, in fact, drag the goth to the doctor if he tried. Michael held his breath because he didn't want to interrupt this finally happening. When Gerry finished the call, Michael took a deep breath.

"Satisfied?"

“I will when you actually go to that appointment in a week and tell him about the fact that your head is trying to explode.”, Michael said, not yet over how fucking long this had taken, and highly suspicious of Gerry really going.

Gerry sighed, “Well, you’re going with me, right?”, he was quite glad that Michael couldn’t see the blush dusting his cheeks, “I mean...so you can be sure that I actually went.”

Michael heard the discomfort in his voice and his irritation melted into a soft smile. “Of course.”, he reached out towards Gerry and Gerry took his hand. Michael brought it to his lips to plant small kisses on each knuckle, “I’m sorry I made it worse with my screaming…”, he mumbled guiltily.

Gerry sighed, pulling Michael towards him and unto his lap. “You weren’t screaming, love. And it’s okay. You were right. You are right.”, he sighed, “It’s just...I’m not used to thinking too much about random pains. I’m...I guess looking out for myself beyond trying not to get killed getting a Leitner is just...quite alien.”

Michael sighed, wrapping his arms around Gerry’s neck and kissing his cheek before nuzzling it. “That’s what you have me for.”

“Mhm, and you have me to remind you to think of yourself once in a while, yes?”, Gerry grinned, running his hand through the golden curls that had been bouncing up and down as Michael paced. It had looked somewhat hypnotic.

Michael chuckled. “Sounds about right. Although, might I point out that I’ve been getting better at doing that myself?”, he sounded cheeky and so proud and Gerry was melting. He, too, was so very proud of how far Michael had come.

“Yes, and I’m very proud of that.”, he pressed his lips to Michael’s, “Guess it’s my turn to try to improve.”, he mumbled against Michael’s lips, twisting one of the curls on his shoulder around his finger.

Michael smiled softly, running his hand over the back of Gerry’s neck. “I’ll help.”

“You always do.”, Gerry grinned, pulling him into another, deeper kiss. Michael buried one hand in his hair and hummed into the kiss as he returned it.


	3. Epilogue: Settled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't actually believe I finished one of my slightly longer projects for once.

When Jon entered the little shop hidden in a narrow alleyway, the small bell over the door ringed softly. The man behind the counter looked up, blond ringlets sliding off his shoulder and into his face.

"Hello! How can I help you?", his tone was the very definition of friendly with a smile to match it. Jon still felt somewhat unnerved, probably by the fact that the sunglasses on the man's face looked quite out of place in the dimly lit antiques store.

Jon coughed a little, "Hello, yes, I'm...I'm searching for Gerard Keay? I was told he...works here."

The smile on the other man's lips seemed to soften at the edges, more fondness than friendliness. "Ah...I think he's in the back, I'll get him for you. Please, feel free to look around while I do.", he motioned vaguely to the store before slowly disappearing behind the shelves to his left. Occasionally, he'd brought out a hand, seemingly caressing one of the shelves as he passed them.

Jon did look around at shelves full of knick knacks, some quite old, many looking fairly new. About half the store, if not more, was books. Some old and bound in leather, others less historic. He was wondering if those were the remains of Mary Keay's collection. Jon was still looking around when he heard steps approaching.

The man who emerged from amid the shelves looked somewhat different from the outdated pictures Jon had seen, but even with shorter hair and thinner, his tattoos and attire were still very much as Jon had read. It was odd, seeing him in person. Jon felt like he somehow knew the man.

"Uhm...Gerard Keay?", Jon tried after the other man came to a stop and took him in, eyes intense, observant, but didn't speak.

"Shelley."

"Excuse me?", Jon asked, confused.

"It's Shelley now.", the man clarified, raising his left hand to wiggle his ring finger with the wedding band on it, a slight grin spreading on his face.

"O-Oh...sorry, I didn’t....", Jon stammered, before catching himself again, "Ah, I'm..I'm Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute.", he said, back to his business voice, as he held out his hand. Gerry shook it, eyes lighting up.

"Ah...so you're her replacement.", he seemed to be taking Jon in again, but in a different light, a small, amused grin playing on his lips. "What can I do for you?", he asked, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions.", Jon said, unnerved by the grin. 

Gerry nodded, as if that had been exactly what he thought Jon would say. He pointed to a small table in the corner of the room, surrounded by bookshelves. "Sit down. I assume this might take a moment.”

Jon looked unsure and surprised, not used to being met with some form of hospitality when coming to ask his questions. Gerry shrugged, making his way to the table himself, not really caring if the archivist would decide to follow or not. But he was not going to have that conversation standing in the middle of the room.

Soon enough, he heard the nervous steps behind him and moments later Gerry had the other man sitting in front of him, eyeing his surroundings warily. His skittishness was starting to remind Gerry of Michael. Except considering how this man was covered in odd and not-so-odd scars, Gerry assumed this one was probably expected to be assaulted any moment, rather than being terrified of pissing somebody off. He actually looked like he might not mind _that_ at all. Gerry assumed the scars would have to come from somewhere.

"So...Jonathan, was it?"

Jon sat up straighter, looking at Gerry warily, "Jon is fine."

"Okay. Call me Gerry, then.", Gerry tried for a reassuring smile, but he couldn't quite keep the amusement out of his eyes.

Jon was clearly starting to get annoyed by that. Or maybe that was just how his face looked like.

"Am I missing out on a joke, Gera- Gerry?", Jon said not even bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice. Gerry laughed.

"Gerry, are you making customers uncomfortable again?", came the familiar lilt of Michael’s voice from behind as he approached, and Gerry got up to take the tray with the tea from him. He set it down on the table, motioning for Jon to suit himself. Maybe it'd help to take off the edge a bit.

"He's not a customer, he's the new archivist, Michael." Gerry mumbled, pressing a short kiss to Michael's jaw, "Sit with us, if you want."

Michael blushed a little at the kiss but froze at the words, "Oh."

"Yeah.", Gerry sighed, pulling another chair up to the table, next to his own. He gently guided Michael's hand to it and Michael carefully sat down. Gerry followed suit.

Jon had been pointedly looking away, staring at the tea as if it might yield any information about whatever he came here to know. Gerry took the teapot and poured them all tea. 

"So...your questions?", he said after they sat in silence throughout the pouring. He gently pushed one of the cups towards Michael, moving Michaels hand that was gripping the edge of the table so that his fingers were brushing the cup. He took a sip of his own cup. Jon watched, distrustful.

"Are you expecting us to poison you?", Gerry asked. 

Michael looked afforded, "What?"

Jon couldn't quite keep the colour from creeping into his cheeks. He coughed, trying to keep his voice even, "This is simply...unusually welcoming. When I come with questions it turns into a near death experience, usually."

Gerry laughed a little and Michael gave Jon an apologetic, somewhat sad smile. Well, he at least directed it in his general direction.

"And yet here you are. What a brilliant example of a servant of the Eye."

Jon frowned, unsure whether he was being complimented or mocked. Or both. He put his hand around his cup of tea, "Yes, about that…"

  
  


It was getting dark by the time they were through with Jon's questions. The man had relaxed considerably about being attacked by them, despite growing tense the more Gerry explained. Michael stayed mostly silent, occasionally nodding in agreement to what one of them was saying or adding something he felt was important. They were all exhausted by the point Jon fell silent was his questions. He looked like he was trying to process everything he had just heard, face scrunched up in focus. 

After a few seconds passed like that, neither of them speaking, Gerry coughed to get Jon's attention, "So...was that it? Any more questions?"

Jon scowled, thinking for a moment. Then he looked at Michael, to Gerry’s surprise, "Are you Michael Shelley?"

Michael jumped at the sudden attention, straightening up in his chair, "O-Oh, right, I didnt even introduce myself, how rude! Yes...yes, it's Michael Shelley. Pleased to meet you.", his smile was a little shaky and Gerry could see him consider whether he should try for a handshake or if that would just add to the anxiety he was already feeling from suddenly being the focus of Jon's attention. 

Gerry decided to make the decision easier by covering the hands Michael had folded on the table with his own, smoothing the tense grip that was having Michael bury his nails into his hands. 

Jon was vaguely aware that he didn't introduce himself to the blond, either, but that was besides the point, "The Michael Shelley who worked as an assistant to Gertrude Robinson?"

Michael swallowed and nodded. He felt like he had committed a crime. Maybe he had. He couldn't remember, at least. Michael tried hard to focus on the hand softly squeezing his own as the stern voice continued. In a way, it was a bit like Gertrude’s tone. But also utterly unlike it. Jon didn't sound so cold. Michael tried to keep that in mind as he tried to calm his nerves.

"How are you here? As far as record is concerned, you disappeared. I had assumed you were...dead.", it hadn't even occurred to Jon to check otherwise. He just thought Michael had met what seemed to be the usual end for an archival assistant. Jon felt a pain in his chest at that thought, and a bitter laugh escaped him.

"Is...are you alright?", Michael asked, worried about the somewhat strangled sound Jon's voice had taken on. 

Jon nodded, "Yes, yes...sorry. I simply wanted to ask how you...quit? the Archive. Alive."

Gerry squeezed Michael’s hand tighter, and Michael muttered that it was okay, wiggling his hands a little to make Gerry let go. Gerry did and sighed, sitting back. He didn't like being reminded of that day.

Michael nervously tucked a stray curl behind his ear, "Ah...okay.", Michael had wondered about whether the archivist already knew and that's why that hadn't been among his questions. But maybe he had just come to accept that there was no way out, "The Ceaseless Watcher...well, it has no use for those who can't see.", he said with a small smile. 

He was wringing his hands in his lap, listening intently for any kind of reaction. There was silence. He was about to ask whether he needed to explain further, when he heard a small gasp.

"You blinded yourself?", Jon asked, but it was more of a statement. The words and their implications had caught up to him. Michael nodded.

Now Jon looked back to Gerry, questioning. Gerry shook his head, "I never signed a contract with the Institute. And I never lost my affiliation with the Eye."

"I thought this was a form of...retirement?", Jon asked, motioning towards the store. Gerard Keay’s name still popped up occasionally, but usually as an information source. Jon had assumed he had turned his back to all. Maybe that his connection to the Eye wasn't so strong as to make that too painful.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, "How old do you think I am?"

"Gerry!", Michael sighed, gently bumping him with his elbow. "Don't be rude."

"He's the one being rude." Gerry countered, but there was a grin in his voice. Michael sighed again.

"Okay, okay. Listen, Jon. I was forced to stop hunting for the books and such when I was hospitalized.", Gerry ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. 

He was about to continue when Michael muttered, "Except you didn't actually stop but somehow managed to continue from the hospital room." He sounded exasperated. 

Gerry chuckled, "I was getting to that. Well, so, during that time my body was already going to shit on its own, so I couldn't really give up feeding the Eye, too, not completely. So I tried to do research into Leitners from there, in moments when I was conscious enough to do so. Michael helped.”, Gerry took Michael’s hand, “And he was also the one who kept track of everything so that, by the end, we basically had well researched plans to take out the books. It was frustrating to only be doing that in theory but it seemed to be enough for the Eye. I don't know, it was hard to tell where the pain was coming from back then.”

Michael squeezed his hand, running his thumb over Gerry’s knuckles. Gerry smiled, grateful for the small comfort, “I asked Michael to check in with some old contacts I had, other people who had a thing for destroying those books. And soon enough I was dealing in information about them. I still do, generally. Just was advised to not pursue the field work the way I used to.”, Gerry shrugged, “And with advised I mean my husband wont let me.", he said that last part with a wide grin, enjoying watching Michael's cheeks darken as he hid his face behind his hands.

"Your  _ husband _ is literally just trying to make you follow the doctors’ orders."

"Can't remember the part about keeping out of deathly situation while hunting for evil books.", Gerry teased.

"Well, usually people do not need to be told that, Gerry.", Michael sighed, exasperated.

Gerry leaned in to press his lips to Michael’s cheek, “They should be glad they had you to do it, then."

Michael huffed, but smiled. Jon felt like he was intruding and coughed awkwardly, "Thank you for answering my questions, then. I...I think I should be leaving.", he muttered, getting up. Gerry nodded but didn't get up. 

Michael did, giving Jon a warm smile, "But of course. I hope it will be helpful."

"Good luck.", Gerry added, giving Jon a small smile, too.

Jon returned their smiles with his own shaky one. He still felt like a fish out of water, not being attacked for asking his questions for once. "G...Goodbye, then.", he said and let Michael bring him to the door. It was cooler outside than when he entered the shop and Jon shivered in the door.

"Ah...do you need a scarf or something? I could get you one-"

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you. Uh...for everything."

Michael nodded and smiled, "Good luck."

Jon nodded, before turning around to leave. He was already several steps away before he remembered that Michael had not seen his nod. He sighed, and moved on.

Gerry watched them at the door, huffing out a laugh as Michael offered Jon a scarf. Some things never changed and Gerry was grateful for that. He reached out to grab Michael's hand when latter approached him again and gently pulled him closer, rubbing circles into the back of his hand. Michael's free hand found its way into Gerry's hair.

"Do you think he can do it?", Gerry asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

Michael sighed, "I hope so. He seems like a nice person."

Gerry laughed, "Does he now." Everybody seemed like a nice person to Michael, "He strikes me like a bit of an ass."

Michael tugged on Michael's hair a little, making Gerry look up at him, "Your kindred spirit, then." He said with the closest Michael ever got to a shiteating grin and Gerry wanted to frame it because it was a rarity like no other and so very perfect.

Gerry laughed, pulling Michael down by his shirt to share a short kiss, "Did you just call me an ass?", he mumbled when he pulled away, keeping Michael's face close.

" _And_ a nice person.", Michael said sweetly, brushing his fingers down the side of Gerry’s face.

Gerry grinned, pulling him into another kiss, because he could, because Michael was there and now comfortable enough to tease him, comfortable enough with himself and with them and Gerry would be hard pressed to come up with anything else he might possibly wish for than being able to kiss his husband as night fell over their shared antiques store. 

When they pulled away this time, they were a little out of breath. Michael was smiling down at him with that overflowing fondness and Gerry knew that the expression was mirrored on his own face as his cheeks were starting to hurt from it.

"Should I start dinner?", Michael whispered, brushing Gerry’s hair behind his ear lovingly.

Gerry looked outside. The streets were deserted, only a couple people out, probably on their way home from a late shift. 

"Yeah, I'll lock up. See you upstairs." Gerry planted a last kiss on Michael’s cheek before releasing him.

Michael unfolded himself to his full height again and smiled, nodding before turning around and making his way to the stairs leading to the apartment upstairs. Their apartment. 

It felt a lot more like  _ their _ apartment than the previous one to Michael, probably because the old one had been his for so long before Gerry moved in. Not that the new one was awfully different. That had kind of been the point. It had been easier to adjust to something similar to the old one for Michael. 

Gerry got up from his chair and stretched, as he watched him go. Michael's steps were relatively sure in the store by now, with the occasional hesitation in spots he had tripped before, muscle memory kicking in, telling him to be careful. It was all such a familiar image now and Gerry counted himself one of the happiest people in the world for that. 

As Michael disappeared behind the apartment door, Gerry gathered the cups onto the tray and brought it back to the back room, which had a small kitchen. Michael would probably disapprove, but Gerry felt too lazy to do the dishes today, so he simply put them in the sink and walked back into the store, making his usual round before locking up for good and turning the open sign to ‘closed’.

  
  


He walked up the stairs after turning off the light, and slipped through the door into the apartment. He followed the soft humming into the kitchen, where he found Michael, hair up in a ponytail, preparing dinner. 

"Hi there…", Gerry smiled, closing the distance to wrap his arms around him from behind. He leaned up to plant a kiss on the back of Michael's neck, enjoying the small shiver that elicited from Michael, "Need help?"

"Set the table?"

"Alright."

He joined in with Michael's humming as he brought out the dishes. His was quite a bit more off key than Michael's, but it still made Michael feel giddy and warm inside. It still felt quite unreal, moments like this. It was better than anything Michael could have imagined.

They fell into a comfortable silence after dinner, Michael absentmindedly tracing the lines on the palm of Gerry’s hand on the table. Ever since the hospital days, when Gerry's hands had usually felt sticky with sweat or incredibly dry and fragile, Michael had learned to appreciate how they felt even more. 

Which Gerry considered quite the achievement, considering Michael had always had quite the obsession with his Gerry’s hands. Gerry didn’t mind at all. He very much loved feeling Michael’s fingers on his hands, loved watching the glee something so simple could put on Michael’s face. 

Gerry sighed contently, wrapping his fingers around Michael’s hand and squeezing lightly and running his thumb over the wedding ring. Michael smiled, squeezing back.

“We should clean up.”, he said, voice soft, soothing. Gerry's shoulders relaxed at the sound, as they tended to.

“We should.”, Gerry hummed, lacing their fingers together on the table instead and looking at them. The sight made his heart flutter.

Michael chuckled, “Will be difficult to achieve that like this, my love.”, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Gerry blushed, still not quite used to Michael calling him that. Michael was apparently getting used to it, since he didn’t blush or get all flustered trying to bring the word over his lips anymore. But his face still went all soft and fond, his voice warm and full of love. It was Gerry who was left blushing and speechless.

The blank eyes had somehow done little to dampen the bubbling happiness and love Michael could express with just his face. It was breathtaking, and Gerry didn’t look away anymore, didn't want to miss this. He embraced the overwhelming feeling being looked at like that gave him, now, and smiled, wide and happy.

  
  


They did eventually clean up the kitchen and made it to bed. Gerry was reading something, Michael’s head resting in his lap. Michael seemed somewhat restless, playing with the hem of Gerry’s shirt.

“What’s on your mind?”, Gerry asked after a while.

Michael stopped his fidgeting. He took a moment before he spoke, “Do  _ you _ think he can do it?”

Gerry put his book down. Of course, Michael would be worrying. Sighing, Gerry traced Michael’s eyebrow, mumbling, “He might.”

“What...what if he doesn’t?”

Gerry had asked himself that plenty. He didn’t actually have an answer, and even if he had, he knew that once Michael started worrying, there was no stopping it. Only smoothing it enough for it to not turn into panic.

“Well...we’ll figure something out.”, Gerry smiled, following the line of Michael’s nose with one hand and petting his hair with the other. 

Michael scrunched up his nose as the light touch tickled him slightly.  Michael took the hand caressing his face, and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to Gerry’s fingers,  “We’re talking about the apocalypse, Gerry.”

“Not really, it’s more of a...remaking of the world, I guess.”, he sighed, twirling one of Michael’s curls around his finger, “And I’m not actually joking. It’s kind of what we do, isn’t it? We make do.”, he chuckled.

Michael sighed. He didn’t look convinced, though Gerry was right, of course. And it wasn’t like Michael ever lost the habit of living every day believing everything would fall apart tomorrow. Having an actual reason for that, though, one that didn’t even have to do with himself, always made his stomach drop. 

He could tell himself it was all in his head when he wasn’t listening to doctors explaining all possible problems that might come up in Gerry’s surgery. Or to the new archivist and Gerry calmly talking about the possibility of saving the world. This was more difficult.

Now Gerry sighed and pulled Michael closer, “I know what you’re thinking about, and it won’t help.”

Michael buried his face in Gerry’s stomach, mumbling, “That has never stopped my brain…”

“I know.”, Gerry sighed, “What can I do?”

Michael thought about it. There was nothing Gerry could do to make it stop, really. He knew this wasn’t something they could research and mentally prepare for. They still didn’t even know if the rituals could work, much less the details of their aftermath. No, the anxiety was there and it wouldn’t be going anywhere. Which was basically same old, so Michael should really not be freaking out more than usual, should he?

“Distract me.”, he ended up saying, leaning his head back on Gerry’s lap.

Gerry watched his face for a moment, fingertips following the line of Michael’s jaw, “What did you have in mind?” 

He was teasing. Michael still blushed when Gerry’s voice dropped mischievously, and Gerry just couldn’t get enough of it. He loved feeling the warmth under his fingers as he traced Michael’s cheeks with them.

Michael was too flustered to speak and Gerry grinned, dragging his nails softly down Michael’s neck. A small gasp escaped Michael’s lips, making him flush an even deeper red.

“K-Kiss me?”, Michael finally managed to mumble.

Gerry chuckled, “You have to move, then, can’t bend this far.”

Michael looked like he did not approve of that idea, and Gerry laughed, gently moving Michael’s head out of his lap, so it was lying next to him on the pillow. He then leaned down, pressing his lips to Michael’s. Michael returned the kiss, shy as always, hand finding its way to Gerry’s shoulder, where it clenched his shirt.

Gerry pulled away from the kiss, pressing a light kiss to Michael’s nose instead. “Switch?”, he mumbled, covering the hand on his shoulder with his own. 

Michael had never felt comfortable with somebody hovering above him - Gerry had somehow managed to control his curiosity and hadn’t pried further after Michael didn’t answer when he asked once - and the loss of his sight had done nothing to change that. Michael had tried very hard in the beginning to just swallow his discomfort, but Gerry wasn’t having any of it. He was fine either way, and didn’t see the point of this if Michael wasn’t enjoying himself, too. 

It had taken a long time to make Michael believe that, but they were getting there. He still bit his lip and looked guilty as he nodded, but he did nod without trying to assure Gerry that he was absolutely fine and that Gerry really didn’t need to worry. It was progress. 

Gerry pressed his lips to Michael’s for a moment, before flipping them over and pulling Michael into another kiss, cradling Michael’s face in his hands. Michael relaxed a bit, returning the kiss tentatively at first, melting into it slowly as Gerry’s hands wandered, one up, to bury in his hair, the other down, over his neck, his shoulder, and down his side. Michael shivered, bringing one hand to Gerry’s chin, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss. Gerry sighed, running his fingers through Michael’s curls. His other hand arrived at Michael’s hip, and his fingers followed the hem of Michael’s jumper. 

Gerry gently nibbled on Michael’s lower lip, “Tongue?”, he mumbled against it.

Michael pondered for a moment, “Can I take my jumper off first?”, he whispered.

“If you want to.”, Gerry nuzzled Michael’s nose with his own.

"I do.", he mumbled, pulling away slightly to get out of his jumper. He shivered, looking like he might be regretting it. 

Gerry chuckled, "Want to put it on again?", he mumbled, running his hands up Michael's chest, watching him twitch slightly at the touch, breath hitching. 

Michael shook his head, "I'm fine.", Michael mumbled, hands finding their way to Gerry's face again. He bent down when his fingers brushed Gerry's lips again, and Gerry met him halfway for another kiss. 

Gerry wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him closer and shielding him from the slight chill of the room as Michael opened his mouth for Gerry’s tongue. It was hot, just like Gerry’s body underneath him, his hands on Michael’s back, as they traced Michael's spine, rough palms against soft skin, making Michael gasp, chill forgotten, everything forgotten besides Gerry’s fingers and mouth and warmth and simply  _ Gerry _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Everything's written & edited (mostly), so I hope I'll be able to post the rest over the next couple days :)


End file.
